Blind_Watcher

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 90 - The turning tide - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 90 - The Turning Tide - Part Two

Already alert for potential danger, the tension only grew higher as the unidentified Ogre drew closer. Its attempts at breaking free were growing more frequent and desperate, but also less likely to succeed as the full weight of my will was brought to bear.

Sensing no other Cultivators approaching our hiding place, I was under no delusions that they would locate us in due time. Almost certainly tracking their errant companion through one means or another. Very likely, only maintaining their distance to avoid being drawn into a potential ambush.

The waiting had also given me time to think,

Yi Gim's injury was not nearly as permanent as I had first led myself to believe. The Shape Flesh Spell was more than capable of regenerating the lost limb, and I already possessed a small measure of experience with restoring internal energy pathways. The primary issue was acquiring a suitable environment and securing the necessary support to complete the restoration without issues.

I could likely restore the arm and hand without significant issues or risks of complications. However, without restoring the internal pathways, there was a risk that Yi Gim could destroy the regenerated limb when cycling a Technique.

I explained as much to Yi Gim. However, the oversight went unspoken and unacknowledged.

On my part, because the slip was indicative of a wider issue. For Yi Gim, he was likely too surprised and relieved by the news to care.

The Ogre's approach was understandably erratic. Drifting with the tide for a time and then correcting course again as they traversed the surface of the ocean. Testing the limits of the compulsion in an attempt to delay the inevitable.

The final leg of the journey was the fastest by far, with the Ogre descending through the water at a rapid pace. Sinking like a stone, the instant there was no longer a justifiable reason to linger on the surface.

Presuming the Ogre wasn't masking its internal energy, it was a middling threat at best. Weaker than the corpse-puppets by a substantial margin. That didn't mean the Ogre was less of a threat. Just that it wouldn't present a danger in the same way.

Yi Gim retreated into the chamber that had been used to hold the corpse-puppet. Both as a means to conceal his immediate presence and allow for a better counterattack in the event of a trap.

Waiting for the Ogre to traverse the final length of the tunnel, I felt its resistance collapse outright. However, instead of continuing forward, they stopped moving altogether.

Renewing the Command made no difference, and I began to suspect the Ogre had drowned and lost consciousness.

Using my control over the water in the submerged tunnel, I drew the Ogre out and into the open air of the small cavern and emptied the Ogre's lungs.

Roughly nine feet tall, the Ogre had dark violet skin, wiry black hair drawn back into a tight top knot, and a pair of thick horns protruding from its forehead. Heavily muscled and with little visible body fat, the Ogre's rapid descent made a great deal more sense.

Very obviously male, the Ogre wore simple armour that accommodated a wide range of movement. Focusing protection on key areas while leaving joints relatively exposed. A pair of tusk-like canines in his lower jaw kept his lips parted and exposed a mouthful of thick, pointed teeth.

“Breathe,” the Command left my throat and passed over my tongue with the weight of a boulder. Crashing into the Ogre's body and compelling it to obey my will.

Ragged gasps took in the thin oxygen of the cavern. Circulating through the Ogre's bloodstream and restoring a flickering ember of conscious thought. Each new breath stoked the embers, creating a small flame.

Satisfied that the Ogre was now capable of breathing independently, I mentally rescinded the Command.

It was only then that I noticed Yi Gim was staring at me, and likely had been throughout. A blend of awe and dread warring behind his eyes.

"He wasn't dead," I commented firmly. Guessing at his thoughts. "Or rather, not beyond the limits of saving."

Gulping dryly, Yi Gim slowly shook his head in disagreement. "That is not what unsettled me so..." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath to steady himself before opening them again. The fear was gone, replaced with something akin to admiration. "Just now, when you spoke to him, I felt the presence of the Dao..." His eyes narrowed slightly as unspoken questions continued to build within his mind. "I do not mean to presume..." Yi Gim worked his jaw uncomfortably and appeared to be choosing his words very carefully. "To call upon the Dao in such a manner, without effort or consequence...This was not something I had expected to witness..."

"You have seen the Dao used before?" I asked, intrigued by the unexpected revelation and opportunity to learn more.

Yi Gim nodded slightly in return and held up his sword. Closing his eyes, he proceeded to cycle his Chi through his body. Prioritising circulation through his arm and his brain. A shimmering ice-like substance began materialising on the blade's edge.

The effort appeared to be immense, already leaving Yi Gim breathing hard and his brow running with perspiration.

"HA!" Yi Gim turned abruptly and slashed toward the wall of the cavern. The sword struck nothing but empty air. However, still mirroring the edge of the blade, the translucent energy detached itself and flew into the stone. Biting deep before abruptly evaporating. Panting for breath, Yi Gim looked up at me with an air of expectation. In a way not so different to how the Daemons would when seeking unsolicited praise.

I waited patiently for him to himself. The trick on its own wasn't particularly impressive. I had witnessed dozens of Techniques and hundreds of Abilities with greater destructive potential, and that did not require nearly so much concentration.

Reading the expression on my face, Yi Gim deflated somewhat. "Although obviously lacking, this was a manifestation of the Sword Dao. A fragment of the greater Dao. To reach this level, low as it may be, has taken diligent study and training. However, I am not a heaven-blessed genius. It is they who possess an understanding at such a level that their will can turn the blades of their enemies upon themselves." His tone shifted from defensiveness and wounded pride to one of awe and reverence. His eyes became unfocused as he revisited old memories. "To behold such perfection was both a blessing and a curse. To have gained insights on the endless path was an invaluable opportunity...If only I were not so far beneath them..."

I reflected upon my actions and made an effort to try and see them through Yi Gim's eyes. The Dao of Tyranny and the Sword were different in terms of their expression. However, if my fellow Monarch's actions were a good measure of middling talent, I could see why he would be so unsettled by what I had done.

The Command had taken no more effort or concentration than I normally attributed to such a task. Suppressing and combating the wills of Slavers and shielding subordinates from hostile mental assaults had become instinctual. Almost to the point of going unnoticed, like breathing.

I supposed that my experiences in the other system might have served as a primer of sorts. Training my mind in such a way that exercising the Dao of Tyranny was far easier than it might have been otherwise. However, I also strongly suspected that the target being an Ogre played a significant role as well. My Tyrant Abilities serve as prearranged channels to streamline the process. Like bumper rails in a bowling alley. Making it all but impossible to fail at achieving at least a small measure of success.

Still trying to put my thoughts into words Yi Gim would understand, I noticed a change in the Ogre’s breathing. The deep, steady rhythm was disrupted, and the Ogre had begun to stir.

Blade at the ready, Yi Gim made as if to approach, but I waved him back. If the Ogre had any surprises in store, Yi Gim would be in greater danger than I. So it would be best for him to remain at a safe distance.

Retreating without argument, Yi Gim went a step further and hid away within the interrogation chamber. 

Groaning with pain, the Ogre stiffly rose into a sitting position. Rubbing at its eyes, only to abruptly grow completely still. Still damp from the seawater, thick trails of sweat began running down the Ogre's face and neck. Ever so slowly, he turned his head. Pupils fluttering, contracting and expanding in response to the sudden surge of adrenaline, the Ogre's head slowly craned upward to meet my gaze.

Releasing a strangled yelp of fear, the Ogre scrambled backwards and reached for his belt. His clawed hand fumbling at his left side with mounting desperation. Unable to bring himself to look away, the Ogre's panic only continued to grow stronger.

Seeming to realise the futility of its actions, the Ogre stopped searching for a weapon and bowed his head in surrender. Slowly and deliberately shifting his stance into a kowtow to demonstrate his complete submission. "M-Mercy..." The Ogre begged, horns grinding and scraping against the rough stone floor.

Somewhat surprised that I could understand the Ogre, a host of new possibilities unfolded within my mind. It was a far more preferable position than I had originally expected.

"Who commands your loyalty?" I demanded coldly, injecting a sliver of Command to deny the captive the possibility of refusing to answer.

"O-Overlord Kenshin..." The Ogre stammered in reply almost immediately. Making no effort to resist the compulsion.

"I do not know this name..." Yi Gim commented through the communication tablet.

"And your Monarch?" I pressed.

"P-Patriarch Chunmii of the eternal shield!" The Ogre answered hurriedly, a hint of hope building in his mind. No doubt entertaining the possibility of leveraging his Monarch's reputation to secure his safety.

"Chunmii! He is the one who ambushed me..." Yi Gim hissed bitterly.

"What is your reason for being in this Realm?" I continued, unfazed by the rival Monarch's pretentious title.

The Ogre paused, seeming to consider the question.

"What is your reason for being in this Realm?" I repeated, compelling an immediate and honest answer.

"An observer!" The Ogre blurted, the veins on his neck bulging as if he were under an immense strain. Perhaps trying to withhold the information. "To witness the death or capture of the Monarch!"

"Are there others?" I pushed again, denying the opportunity to evade or give a misleading answer.

"Yes!..." Spittle flew from the Ogre's mouth and across the cold stone floor. "A small party! Just five others! Please! URGH!" He reached for his throat and made a strangled gasp, struggling to breathe.

I released the compulsion, and the Ogre's condition gradually recovered.

"What Array was deployed for this ambush?" The threat of the renewed compulsion remained, and I couldn't help but notice the Ogre flinch as he anticipated the return of its invisible grip.

"A...A five-point celestial dragon binding..." The Ogre cowered like a beaten dog. "Marshal Somri carries the key to the Array...If released, I could petition for leniency! The Monarch is wise and respects strength! I am certain your talents will earn great favour within his court!"

"This Marshal, do you have the means of finding them again?" I asked.

The Ogre released a deep sigh of relief. "We agreed on a signal!" He replied hurriedly, almost babbling in his excitement. "Once I make the signal, they will reply in kind!"

"No communication tokens or Techniques?" I pressed, trying to keep the incredulity from my tone.

Taking a hit out on another Monarch had to be an immensely expensive affair, and it didn't make sense to cheap out on communications.

"The Marshal and his aide have communication slips that allow direct communication with the palace...And the justiciar from the crimson hall is in communication with his elders..." The Ogre replied with markedly dwindling certainty. "That is all I know!" He added hurriedly, fresh sweat beading upon the shaved sides of his scalp.

"This is within expectations," Yi Gim commented through our connection. "Excluding certain members might be part of a wider political message."

I grunted in agreement and returned my focus to the Ogre.

"And what was your plan for returning to the Realm of your Monarch?" I asked, trying to project the impression that I was willing to change sides.

"The Marshal carries a keystone to the Grand Array and can form a bridge back to the Monarch's Realm!" The Ogre replied in a rush and with near palpable relief. "I am certain, once the Marshal has witnessed your strength, he will agree to arrange a meeting with the Monarch!" The desperation in his voice strongly suggested that this was far from a certainty. However, it didn't particularly matter one way or the other.

"And if your party was attacked by a Demon, or a Demonic Cultivator, who would fare best against them?" Rescuing Sebet would make everything else easier, and I was hoping one of the observers was responsible. They didn't appear to be closely coordinating with the mercenaries, so they would be an easier target.

The Ogre's demeanour changed almost immediately. His fear and excitement turned to disgust and anger. "The observer from the Yu Tian temple...The monk was only invited to insult the Overlord!"

I had encountered a hybrid Ogre-like Species once before, and they had met the same system requirements and qualifications as Demons. So I wasn't unreasonable to assume this Ogre might be the same.

"If the other observers suffered casualties, how would your Monarch react?" A rough plan was taking shape in my mind, but I wanted more information before committing.

The Ogre remained quiet for some time, carefully thinking things over. "If the Marshal survives and is not permanently injured, the Monarch would likely not give it a second thought. But the Marshal is the Monarch's favoured son-in-law...Harm or disrespect to the Marshal would be seen as a provocation..."

I grunted in understanding. The pride of the Monarchs was typically off the charts. Unless confronted with a vastly superior enemy, they would kill and risk their own lives for the sake of their pride.

"Before I betray my client, I must discuss your offer with my colleague." I imprisoned the Ogre within walls of solid stone. Descending the improvised prison deeper into the bedrock for good measure.

The Ogre twitched violently but made no attempts to flee. Keeping his head down and accepting his fate with grim optimism.

"You have a plan?" Yi Gim inquired, keeping his hand very deliberately away from his sword as a show of trust.

I waved my hand noncommittally. "I have part of a plan," I admitted, Summoning a generic Human Cultivator. "Can other Cultivators identify a Monarch by sense alone? Cultivators from another Monarch's Realm, I mean."

Yi Gim gave it some thought and slowly shook his head. "Not unless they are familiar with the Monarch and their bloodline. However, a powerful Cultivator, or one with a specialty in probing the spirit, might have the means to piece together a Monarch's nature from certain clues."

"So..." I sacrificed a small portion of HP and cast the Shape Flesh Spell on the Summoned Cultivator. Twisting its features to take on Yi Gim's appearance.

Yi Gim winced, but otherwise took in the nauseating sight with silent patience.

"If we disguised this clone to look like you, could we explain away its weakness as a result of your injuries or exhaustion?" I asked, revealing the key component of the plan.

"I..." Yi Gim paused and gave it serious thought. "Yes, I believe such a ruse could work. However, our enemies would demand we submit to an inspection also."

"If we concealed our cores, limiting ourselves to project a level of strength on par with the observers, or perhaps a little higher, would that be sufficient if combined with a physical disguise?" I motioned to the one-armed Summon as a show of what I had in mind.

"It...could work..." Yi Gim agreed hesitantly. "This would leave us in a poor position to retaliate if they initiate a fresh ambush..."

That was true enough. Drawing in and controlling the Core was like an overweight guy holding in their gut. While it slimmed their profile somewhat, it also restricted their breathing and made sharp jabs to the kidneys or liver that were much more debilitating. Limiting the projected strength of the Core literally made you weaker, restricting your strength to the level allowed.

Which meant an assassin would have an opportunity to deliver a more telling strike. Provided they were afforded the opportunity.

It was a greater risk for Yi Gim, who relied entirely on his Cultivation for his enhanced durability. Even without Cultivation, I would still retain the majority of my strength and staying power. The Human form itself was a bigger deduction, but I couldn't see any way around it.

Remaining in my true form would raise too much suspicion. As a human, it would be easier to pass ourselves off as mercenary defectors. While also using the looming threat of my alter ego as an incentive not to hang around and risk another confrontation.

The tattoo on my arm made my transformation a straightforward affair. Similarly, I had a trove of treasures to draw upon for completing my disguise as a human Cultivator and mercenary.

Yi Gim's disguise was a much more involved process. Lacking Sebet and Gric's insights into sculpting flesh. I limited myself to regenerating Yi Gim's arm and changing his face. The hand was only semi-functional, and the energy pathways were subpar. More likely to be a greater hindrance than the stump had been. However, we were reasonably confident that Yi Gim could sell the hatchet job as the result of an old injury.

Changing his face had gone without significant issues overall, but was a source of embarrassment all the same. Despite interacting with hundreds of Cultivators during the past few months, it had proven incredibly difficult to settle on an 'appropriate' face.

The Cultivators' nations all had identifiable ethnic influences from Earth, and it felt wrong to just mismatch his features at random. Unfortunately, this limited the references I could use and ultimately resulted in my decision to settle for a familiar face I remembered from movies and TV shows.

"I don't understand?" Yi Gim was inspecting his reflection in a handheld mirror with the aid of a small magical lantern. "What about my borrowed appearance has you so perturbed?"

"It's just a little strange..." I sighed awkwardly, "Your face, I borrowed it from a famous actor, a celebrity, from my world..."

Yi Gim furrowed his brow slightly for several moments as he took a closer look at his borrowed features. Seeing no problems, he shrugged indifferently. "I remember merchants and nobles from the northern provinces with similar faces. I do not think it will be a problem. Truly, this illusion of youth will only work in our favour."

I had to admit that he had a point. Standing side by side with the Summoned body-double, they couldn't be more different despite being close to the same height.

Settling upon matching clothing and armour for ourselves, we manually distressed the armour Yi Gim had borrowed in our flight from the beach. Once it was suitably damaged, we equipped it onto the Summon and then bound it with chains and Talismans.

If one of the corpse-puppets or the observers launched a sneak attack and destroyed the Summon, the plan was to blame the disappearance on a life-saving treasure. This had been Yi Gim's idea. Life-saving artefacts were profoundly rare, but not unheard of. So it provided a plausible means of explaining the Summon disappearing after its HP was depleted.

Similarly, Yi Gim didn't see the language barrier as a particular issue. Most Cultivators knew a handful of languages, but it wasn't unreasonable for a mercenary not to know the language of an unanticipated enemy. Mercenaries typically knew dozens of languages collectively to maximise the list of potential clients while exercising a common tongue for coordination. However, this also meant that there would be members who couldn't communicate directly with the client or enemy forces.

Withdrawing the Ogre from its imprisonment, we sprung our plan into motion.

"You!" I barked, immediately putting the Ogre on the back foot. "Did you mean what you said about the esteemed Monarch of the endless shield?! Would his esteemed majesty really allow us to join his service?!"

Disoriented, in part due to oxygen deprivation, it took the Ogre several moments to take in the change in circumstances. "I uh...Y-yes!" His eyes locked onto the Summoned copy of Yi Gim, and his eyes grew wide with shock.

"Then we must hurry away from here and rejoin your allies before our captain returns!" I insisted urgently, doing my best to help pull the Ogre to his feet despite our difference in size. "He has left to investigate the Array and could return at any moment!"

The Ogre's face paled visibly. "Perhaps-"

"He intends to kill you!" I interjected with a sneer, giving the Ogre a rough shove for good measure. "Said your weakness disgusts him!"

Fury and fear warred behind the Ogre's eyes. "Let's go!" He agreed, suddenly much more amenable to the risks he was undertaking.

I withdrew a weak flying sword from my Storage Ring and pressed it into his hand. "We only have two, so you have to make do! Now get moving! We need to get out of here!"

The Ogre nodded determinedly and jumped into the water without so much as glancing over his shoulder to see if we would follow.

Firmly gripping the chains, I waited for Yi Gim to do the same and then followed the Ogre.

Propelled through the water by the flying sword, we made straight for the surface before trailing in the Ogre's wake and back towards the beach. While considerably faster than swimming would have been under the circumstances, it still took a long time to reach the shore.

More than long enough to be made aware of the small contingent of corpse-puppets that were now waiting for our arrival.

Complicating matters, the corpse-puppets were not alone.

Two people stood apart and further back on the beach. Their unmasked faces marked them as members of the party of observers the ogre had mentioned earlier.

The larger of the two figures was a tall woman with long, shining dark hair. Wearing flowing robes of silver and grey that shimmered in the sunlight, she was playing a stringed instrument from atop a roiling dark cloud hovering a handsbreadth off the ground. 

Despite the distance and the crashing of the waves drowning out the melody, each plucking motion of her fingers pressed against the periphery of my will. The inaudible sonic waves were projecting some form of Technique intended to manipulate the mind. Although it was unclear what the precise effect was intended to be.

The second figure was a man of indeterminate age with a shaved head who wore short combat robes and held a red-tasselled spear. He appeared unaffected by his female companion's technique, and his dark eyes tracked the Ogre's progress with unreserved animosity. 

Despite the danger the pair presented, I felt a sense of relief all the same. My focus was drawn toward the weathered gourd hanging from the second figure's hip and Sebet residing within.

As we drew closer, I could feel the strain building in my mind as whatever Formation or Technique keeping Sebet imprisoned was forced to contend with the combined efforts of our wills.

The bald stranger only grew more agitated. However, it was unclear whether it was because of Sebet or the Ogre that was now navigating the shallows and doggedly headed in his direction.

"Gozu! You have returned!" The tall woman called out with a smile, her voice carrying a singsong and bewitching quality that increased the strain on my will. "We had been all but certain the waves had claimed your life!"

"Mores the pity!" The bald man snarled irritably.

The Ogre, Gozu, made a rude gesture in return. "I was assaulted by an enemy Technique!" He roared angrily. "And you did nothing!"

"Your safety is not my responsibility!" The bald man replied with a sneer of contempt. "If the Master had not agreed to s-"

"Who is this you have brought with you?!" The tall woman interjected, her voice cutting through the bald man's words without noticeably raising in volume. Despite her obvious discomfort in drawing near to the corpse-puppets, she circled around to take a closer look.

"Allies! Mercenaries hired thanks to the wisdom and foresight of my overlord!" Gozu answered with pride, puffing out his chest and grinning savagely at the bald man. "And the Monarch we were sent to secure!"

"WHAT?!" The bald man exclaimed incredulously, leaping up and over the corpse puppets to land in the surf a handsbreadth from Yi Gim, myself and the Summoned decoy.

Likewise, the tall woman raced over the open water atop her cloud, her stringed instrument orbiting around her as if carried by unseen hands. 

Yi Gim and I had forgotten helmets as a calculated element of the deception. Making ourselves more readily identifiable without encouraging closer scrutiny. Sure enough, the two Cultivators spared only enough time to perform a basic scan of our Cores and take in our faces before settling their focus upon the decoy.

"His Dantian is destroyed!" The tall woman exclaimed with surprise, considering Yi Gim and me with newfound respect. "This is truly an impressive feat."

"Nonsense!" The bald Cultivator snapped angrily. "The Monarch was already crippled. These bottom feeders merely delivered the final blow! That is all!"

Gozu was already backtracking into the surf and squaring up for a fight when the tall woman raised her hands and motioned for calm.

"Now is not the time to fight amongst ourselves," she pleaded, her voice heavy with hidden energy that positively slammed against my mental defences.

Yi Gim released the decoy and made as if to lunge at the bald Cultivator, but was brought up short as I seized the back of his armoured coat with my free hand.

With Gozu and the male Cultivator already coming to blows, it wasn't difficult to determine what the female Cultivator was doing. To better sell our ruse, I made a show of shaking my head and behaving as if the mental manipulation was impairing my senses rather than inciting outright violence. Similarly, I had the Summoned decoy strain at its chains and gnawed at the gag binding its mouth.

Seemingly content with the chaos she had instigated, the female Cultivator retreated a short distance. She made token appeals to her two companions to convince the silent audience of Cultivators controlling the corpse-puppets of her desire to end the fighting. All the while ratcheting up her compulsion and intensifying the confrontation from a barehanded brawl and into a savage fight to the death.

The bald Cultivator had a near-undeniable advantage. Faster and possessing greater reach, the Cultivator accompanied his strikes with a mantra that appeared to slow Gozu's movements to a crawl.

Straining against the invisible bonds, it was obvious that Gozu would lose the fight if left to his own devices. At least, that would have been the case if Sebet hadn't taken advantage of the bald Cultivator's divided focus and made a sudden bid for freedom.

Pain lanced through my mind, and the gourd on the bald Cultivator's hip exploded, catching him by surprise and breaking his concentration.

Ill-prepared and out of position, Talismans within the bald Cultivator's robes flashed and burned as a semi-translucent barrier intercepted a lethal strike to his skull. "You dare?!" The bald Cultivator roared, lancing his spear at Gozu's unprotected neck.

Distracted by the battle, no one else appeared to notice the swell of Mana snaking through the water and toward the decoy.

<Not that one.> I warned, projecting my thoughts and hoping Sebet could understand. Gathering a small amount of Mana, I Summoned a small serpent within the Decoy's bindings.

Thankfully, Sebet appeared to understand and forcibly took control over the serpent. She possessed its body with her Mana and restored our mental connection.

<Oooh! That feels so much better!> Sebet cooed with pleasure. <Being stuffed inside the vessel was so boring! Hey now, what's going on here?>

I gave Sebet limited access to my most recent memories.

<Oh! Well! This is interesting! Are we going to invade the other Realm? Or attempt to take down the Array?> Sebet asked but immediately shifted focus as new sources of energy began approaching our position from the direction of the city.

"ENOUGH!" A deep voice boomed, cutting through the compulsion and causing everyone to stagger and nearly threw the tall woman into the water. The owner of the voice appeared moments later, flying through the air atop a broad, ringed sabre.

Unlike the other human Cultivators, this new arrival was properly armoured. Wearing a padded cloth gambeson over banded steel. Dark, cruel eyes glared through armoured slits of a visored helmet, and a round steel shield hovered over each shoulder. Suspended by nearly imperceptible tethers of internal energy.

The bald Cultivator and the Ogre were quick to draw away from one another, signalling an end to their immediate hostilities as they bowed in respect to the new arrival. "Forgiveness, Imperial Marshal!" They declared in unison.

<I don't like this, take shelter within my armour.> I ordered. Unwilling to risk losing Sebet after so recently retrieving her. <Alter your form if you can, match Kwan's characteristics in case they discover your presence.>

<Understood.> Sebet replied with understanding. Slipping through a space in the chains and disappearing up the armoured sleeve of my left arm.

I felt her borrowed flesh twist and writhe against my own. The bones of the serpent's body breaking and reforming to take on the shape of a tiny Abyssal Serpent.

If Sebet was discovered, I could claim she was my Bonded Companion. Presenting the serpent sign tattoo over my heart as proof.

Ideally, I would prefer her presence to go unnoticed entirely. However, it was best to have a backup plan just in case.

"Shen Yuechan!" The Marshal growled dangerously, "If you undermine my mission, ordained by my most divine father, even a fraction further, I will see the Shen clan exterminated to the last mewling babe! Am. I. Understood?!"

"Yes! Thank you for your instruction, Imperial Marshal!" The tall woman replied with extreme deference. Bowing so low that her hair tumbled over the edge of her cloud and into the surf below.

Glancing to the side, I could see Yi Gim had bowed his head, and I decided to follow his lead and did the same.

"Now, what is this?" The Marshal demanded.

"The enemy Monarch! Imperial Marshal!" Gozu replied hurriedly, seizing the initiative before his rivals could take the opportunity. "With mercenaries hired by the Overlord, the Monarch was overwhelmed, and I was able to take the Monarch prisoner!"

"Is that so?" The Marshal growled. He expanded his perception by sending out his Chi to investigate the decoy. "What happened to his Core?"

"This one is not sure..." Gozu answered uncertainly.

"Hrmf. Clearly, my divine imperial father dealt more damage than we had supposed..." The Marshal didn't seem entirely convinced. No doubt suspecting subterfuge, he then remotely inspected my Core. "Hrm...You there, mercenary-" He spoke the word with unadulterated contempt. "-how did you enter this Realm?"

"This one entered through a hidden smuggling Array," I replied with exaggerated humility, emulating the Ogre's deference. "The strain collapsed the Array before our company could enter in force."

"You are a ranking officer of your troupe?" The Marshal asked with obvious expectations.

"This one was Adjunct to the Commander, and this one's companion was a Captain," I motioned to Yi Gim without raising my head. Doing my best to maintain a facade of subservience.

"And your Commander? Where is he?" The Marshal demanded, a poorly hidden twang of fear in his voice.

"Dead," I replied decisively.

Gozu stared back at me with surprise.

"The Commander turned traitor and wanted to take the side of the crippled Monarch. Fooled by promises of treasures and Cultivation secrets," I lied, making sure to emphasise the role greed played in this made-up scenario to play into the Marshal's prejudices. "The Lieutenant and two of our brothers fell, but we were able to kill the Commander and recapture the Monarch."

I couldn't see Gozu's face, but I was reasonably certain that his silence was a sign of his willingness to go along with the altered version of events. No doubt glad that I hadn't contradicted the liberties he had taken earlier.

It was a common theme with Cultivator cultures. To reposition and present events from the most favourable angles for the most personal benefit or to undermine a rival. Much like the endless intrigues of the nobility. In the current circumstances, not indulging in such behaviour might have been a greater risk than telling outright lies.

The Marshal seemed to relax. "A shame, so few of your kind can be trusted..."

One of the corpse-puppets took this opportunity to say something, but I was unsure what.

"Hrmf, begone. I have no further need of your assistance," the Marshal commanded dismissively. "On behalf of my divine father, I hold your contract fulfilled."

The corpse-puppets hesitated, lingering for a long moment before slowly retreating inland.

If I had to guess, I could assume the Marshal was sending them away to avoid sharing the credit with a third party.

"Mercenaries," The Marshal directed his attention back to me. "It is rare for your kind to be so capable and principled. I may have a place for such talent amongst my subordinates..."

Yi Gim reacted a hair faster, dropping to one knee while keeping a firm grip on the decoy's chains. I followed his lead.

"It would be our greatest honour to serve such a worthy figure as his Imperial Marshal!" I cried, speaking on both our behalf while Yi Gim nonverbally joined in with hoarse croaks to conceal his voice. "Forgiveness, my companion was injured and has not yet had time to heal his wounds!" I explained, preempting an investigation.

I hadn't been confident enough to alter Yi Gim's vocal cords, so we had thought it best if he avoided speaking as much as possible. In case someone recognised his voice.

The Marshal's energy swept around us for a second time, focusing upon Yi Gim before retreating once more. "Fret not, my servants are attended by the greatest physicians in the Realm! I will see that you are treated upon our return."

Yi Gim bobbed and bowed his head in a show of gratitude.

"Now..." The Marshal descended, floating before the decoy. "I will take custody of the prisoner. To ensure there are no complications." There was a tense pause, as if he was expecting Yi Gim or me to argue. However, with no signs of resistance or complaint forthcoming, the Marshal seized the chain bindings and hefted the decoy out of the water with one hand. 

The Marshal rose back into the air and began flying in the same path taken by the retreating corpse-puppets.

The tall woman and the bald man were quick to follow behind. The former atop their floating cloud and the latter on foot.

Gozu spared us both a glance before joining them. Radiating mounting paranoia and concern.

To maintain the ruse, Yi Gim and I joined the procession.

If the enemy terminated the Array of their own accord, that would be the ideal outcome. However, it was more likely that they intended to reclaim the materials of the Array after seizing the land through a Supremacy Challenge. Preventing any potential interlopers or survivors from escaping.

Following the Marshal and the other Cultivators, it didn't take long to reach their staging area and regroup with the remaining members of the observation team.

Located within the abandoned remains of an abandoned clan palace, the invading forces had simply repurposed an existing Teleportation Array originally used by the former owners. Close to two hundred corpse-puppets, human and beast alike, were waiting within the spacious grounds of the Array when we arrived.

Glad to be rid of them, the Marshal temporarily suppressed the effects on the Teleportation Array, allowing the mercenaries' forces to leave first. Although it was unclear if they would be headed to the same place we were.

Once it was our turn, we joined the Cultivators within the centre of the marked boundary of the Array. Just as before, the Marshal suppressed the effects of the Anchoring Array. A gilded plaque from within his Storage Ring provided a target destination and presumably the credentials to access the Array on the other end.

After activating the Array, we were immediately transported out of Yi Gim’s Realm and into the Realm of our enemy.

A hundred armoured Cultivators wearing identical golden armour were arranged in rigid formations directed toward the open plaza containing the Array. Crossbows and bows were held at the ready and prepared to act at a moment's notice.

At first, I was worried we had walked ourselves into another ambush. However, when the Cultivators made no signs of overt hostility, I realised this was likely just the garrisoned force assigned to watch the Array for invaders.

A Cultivator wearing the same armour as the others standing in formation, only with greater ornamentation, exited a distant watch tower and raced across the open ground to kneel before the waiting Marshal.

“The Watch Commander greets the Imperial Marshal!” The new arrival shouted, his fists pressed together in a salute and bowed at the waist to show his respect. 

“WE GREET THE IMPERIAL MARSHAL!” The assembled Cultivators shouted in unison a handful of breaths after their commander.

Preening under the overt praise, the Marshal made a show of raising his head while advancing toward the distant gates. “All travel through the Grand Array is to be temporarily postponed. You will assist City Lord Ziao and keep watch over my prisoner while arrangements are made for transportation to the Imperial Capital.”

“It will be done, Imperial Marshal!” The Watch Commander agreed without hesitation. Removing a gilded plaque from within his armour and disabling the Teleportation Array with a subtle surge of energy.

Releasing the chains controlling the Decoy’s movement into the keeping of the Watch Commander without breaking his stride, the Marshal continued toward the distant gates.

Following the lead of the other Cultivators that had served as observers for the enemy invasion, we remained on the raised platform at the centre of the Teleportation Array while the decoy was taken under heavy escort out of the plaza.

After the Marshal and decoy were clear, the Cultivators from the observation team began to relax and make their own way toward the gates.

The bald Cultivator shot Gozu a nasty scowl but said nothing as he hurried away. Clearly impatient to be rid of their company.

The other Cultivators lingered for a short while, silently sizing us up before taking their leave. Opting to keep to themselves without having said a word. At least, having said anything out loud. The swirling exchange of energy amidst the group strongly indicated that several conversations had taken place. We just weren’t invited to participate.

“Hrmph! Good riddance!” Gozu grumbled with a sneer.  However, his attitude changed when considering Yi Gim and me. Becoming profoundly uncomfortable. “Brothers…” He watched our faces with an intensely calculating gaze. When we made no sign to contradict or rebuke his statement, the Ogre relaxed. “Your timely assistance is appreciated,” Gozu pressed his fist into his palm and bowed with respect. “I am certain the Overlord would be honoured to host a feast and bestow gifts as payment for your efforts. Would you consider delaying your trip to the capital and returning with me to my homeland?”

I made a show of looking at Yi Gim to signal we would be conversing in private through a silent communication Technique. “The immediate area has a similar Array blocking inter-Realm travel. Travelling to a more distant territory would be our best bet to test the outer limits of the Array or find a backdoor. What do you think?" 

Yi Gim nodded in agreement. "A smuggler, or other unscrupulous merchant, would offer the best chance. However, this Overlord may have a private Teleportation Array we could take advantage of as well."

With the abandoned noble estate we had just left as an obvious example, it was easy to see Yi Gim's point.

I turned to Gozu and nodded while trying to project an aura of positivity. "We would be honoured to accept your invitation."

Gozu grinned broadly and appeared both elated and more than a little relieved. "I am certain you will find the Overlord's hospitality to be worth the journey! Please, brothers, follow me!" He motioned excitedly toward the gates and ushered us both from behind with his large forearm before setting the pace forward.

Traversing the plaza, I had time to assess the more obvious Arrays layered into the immediate area.

Besides the Teleportation Anchoring Array, there was also an Array that seemed to disrupt the standard Formations used for magical flight and reinforcing armour. Which made sense, given the plaza was a primary means of entry to the Realm. Denying infiltrators or enemies the opportunity to gain a foothold or scatter into the greater Realm without being contested. 

There was also a Grand Defensive Array that would conjure a powerful shield to isolate the area and generate elemental attacks when activated. From what I could tell, it would target anyone not carrying a key to mark them as an ally.

The Vassalised Monarchs under my command had similar setups within their old territories, and efforts were being undertaken to produce more Defensive Arrays for the coming conflict with the Angels. Testing had shown a limited degree of effectiveness in the trials, but they were still limited by their dependence on Chi and compatible energies to function.

Leaving the plaza revealed a sprawling city that extended past the horizon. The main roads leading to the plaza were choked with people milling about their daily lives. Some were carried upon palanquins or rode in carriages or rickshaws, but the majority travelled on foot.

A wagon train was actively engaged in redirecting away from the plaza and headed for who knew where. The guards and drivers shouted and cursed at the passersby as they attempted to navigate the crowded roads.

In the distance, a scattering of Cultivators traversed the skies atop fantastical beasts and animated magical weaponry.

Following Gozu a short distance from the plaza, I felt the effects of the Arrays diminish and then relinquish their hold entirely. With only the Array blocking Teleportation remaining in active effect.

"I will send for a carriage!" Gozu commented somewhat distractedly as he snatched at a middle-aged man passing us by. "Messenger, I require a flying carriage for myself and my brothers here! Now go!"

It did not seem like the Ogre and the man had known each other, but the man bowed respectfully and then determinedly rushed off down the nearest road. Far from appearing afraid or angry, the man had appeared eager to do as he was told.

"It is common for messengers to be paid a commission by the operator of the business." Yi Gim explained through the communication tablet. "If our...guide...had sent a message, then he would be expected to pay a fee."

I could feel Sebet's thoughts brushing against the edge of my own and allowed a temporary connection. <The effects of the Banishment have subsided. For your safety, I believe it would be best if I were to assume a more capable form.>

<Are you confident you can do so in a way that doesn't create suspicion?> I asked warily.

<Quite confident!> Sebet replied cheerily. <As you are already aware, the more advanced mystical beasts are capable of assuming hybrid and even human forms. I will simply do the same.>

Thinking it over, I ran the idea past Yi Gim for his opinion.

"It could work." Yi Gim replied approvingly. "It is not unreasonable for those at our assumed strength to be capable of raising a beast to the required level to achieve initial enlightenment and assume humanoid form."

<Fine. Just don't make me regret this.> I demanded. A premonition of approaching trouble agitated my nerves. "My beast needs some air," I commented aloud, preempting any awkward questions from Gozu.

Mildly confused, Gozu watched in rapt surprise as the small Abyssal Serpent exited my right sleeve and coiled down my leg.

Consuming the Summon from the inside out, Sebet rapidly assumed a humanoid form not all that dissimilar from the Serpent-Kin. Only she had a mane of long white hair rather than a bald scaly scalp. Utterly naked, she had her body angled and strategically covered by her hands and arms in such a way that revealed nothing. However, the effects were the opposite. Drawing in more attention to herself and the few inches of skin she had covered.

Rolling my eyes, I felt my blood pressure spike as I fought down a curse.

No doubt recognising she had gone too far, Sebet's nakedness was rapidly eliminated by sea green robes that formed as if from thin air about her person. In truth, what looked like clothing was made of her own skin and other bodily tissues. As much a part of Sebet as her own arm or leg. 

"It is your fault!" Sebet pouted childishly. "You have kept me cooped up for too long! I was out of practice! Of course, such a thing would happen!" She feigned embarrassment and glared venomously back at me. "You must make it up to me!"

My eyelid twitched, but I otherwise remained in control. "Of course..." I replied with a forced conciliatory tone. "We will revisit your allowance when we return home...How about that?"

Outwardly, Sebet gave a small jump for joy and clung to my arm in a show of overt affection. "Master is the best!" However, the link between our minds made it clear that she was aware of how close she had come to crossing the line. I know it looked bad, but it's for the sake of the mission!> Sebet insisted defensively. <That big idiot was coming close to asking some difficult questions we don't want to answer. Now, he isn't!> The disguised Devil smiled sweetly, exposing a mouth full of pointed teeth, her eyes glittering dangerously in the midday sun. <Besides, with his thoughts now turned towards me, his mind is much easier to influence without his noticing or raising his guard. If we wish to return to your Realm without being discovered, it would be best to begin gathering what information we can.>

Releasing my anger, I nodded in agreement. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that Sebet was compelled to pursue my best interests. At least those covered by our Contract. However, in this instance at least, I had to admit that I had allowed the mounting stress caused by our predicament to get the better of me.

The fact that Sebet had clearly taken the route that garnered her the most entertainment and overall benefit was simply something I should have assumed from the beginning.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 90 - The turning tide - Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 90 - The turning tide - Part One

Unravelling the remainder of the foreign energy within my arm took several more hours and gave me time to reflect upon recent events.

Several Cultivators had made comments in the past. Attributing my superior strength to divine origins or status. However, they had been transparent acts of flattery and were profoundly unlikely to have any bearing on the recent changes acknowledged by the system.

Filtering through the interactions, there was a single occurrence that stood out as different from the rest.

Shortly after reconstructing the Oba patriarch's core, the patriarch had made similar claims as the rest. With the notable difference that the Oba Patriarch had actually witnessed my core. Albeit, while he was in a disoriented state. 

It was possible that the Oba patriarch had seen something in my core that signalled an early sign of the current changes. However, the more I thought about it, the more convinced I became that it had just been a coincidence.

Unlike Mana and Chi, Divinity didn't generate a noticeable sensation as it was accumulated. Functionally, nothing more than a steadily increasing number on my status. Which struck me as being incredibly strange.

Capable of being used to create powerful magic items, and as I now learned, also capable of creating Artefacts, Divinity was arguably more powerful than both other forms of energy combined.

Divinity required a certain degree of Authority before it could be forged into an Artefact. Which was why Orphiel and Ophelia had been incapable of creating more than powerful magic items.

Unable to take the risk in providing the Fallen Angels with even a small degree of Authority, I had assumed I would be limited to the Divinity I could collect personally.

I was wrong, and it didn't take long for me to remember why.

Technically, I was the head of a Pantheon. Or rather, the head of a Pantheon of Pantheons. Standing above the trio of Valkyrja and the duo of Fallen Angels.

Divinity could be willingly shared among members of the same Pantheon, in a similar fashion to electronically transferring money from one bank account to another.

However, there was a problem.

Having access to the Divinity hadn't awarded intuitive control or guidance. Making the resource functionally useless in my hands.

Sigrun, Kara and Skuld were less likely to be compromised than Orphiel and Ophelia, but there was no guarantee they knew the same tricks either.

Resolving to question the Valkyrja for guidance, I was interrupted by a new Challenge. Unlike the others, which were automatically filtered to the outermost periphery of my vision, this Challenge appeared directly in the centre. Making it impossible to ignore.

Sparing only a moment to use my authority to don my armour and retrieve my weapon, I accepted the Challenge.

Surrounded by blackened, withered trees on all sides, I extended my senses and began pushing forward. Wasting no time in avoiding the strange trees and instead ploughing through them. Shattering and crushing the alien vegetation without a second thought.

Drawn toward the only other source of internal energy, it took less than a minute to locate the other Monarch.

Bloodied and pale, Yi Gim leaned heavily on a nearby tree for support. His right arm ended abruptly in a ragged stump of exposed bone and torn flesh, and deep scratches marked his armour.  All the same, the older Monarch appeared profoundly relieved by my presence.

"You came..." Yi Gim croaked weakly, his bloody lips parting into a faint smile. "I was...Not sure...You would...Answer..." He panted, struggling to breathe and speak at the same time.

After rejecting my original offer for Vassalage, Yi Gim had engaged in near-constant Supremacy Challenges against every Monarch he dared. Surrendering his winnings to me in carefully orchestrated hand-offs, to make his losses practically negligible. A near fool-proof plan that had provided hundreds of territories to my Realm. All with the sole provision that his family be awarded lands that amounted to what amounted to pennies on the dollar.

Apparently, our collaboration had not gone unnoticed.

"It's time to end this gambit," I insisted, removing a simple bed from my Storage Ring and then depositing healing elixirs, pills and bandages on the mattress.

Yi Gim breathlessly hobbled to the bed and all but collapsed from exhaustion. Too tired to even put up an argument.

Carefully pinching at his armour, I ripped the leather bindings and pulled the armour away. Reducing the pressure on Yi Gim's chest and allowing him to breathe more freely.

"Thank you..." Yi Gim wheezed before reaching for one of the pill bottles.

"It was a set-up?" I said, more of a statement than a question.

Yi Gim nodded weakly. "The Jin...Had a...Demonic...Beast...Had to...Use the...sword..."

I nodded gravely and glanced at the crimson naval sabre discarded on the ground. Formed from jade and infused with my own blood, the blade was close to indestructible. The withered remains of Yi Gim's right hand still loosely clutched at the exposed tang.

The Demonic Beast had destroyed the leather bindings of the grip, leaving the stone seemingly untouched.

"Armoured....Turtle..." Yi Gim wheezed, following my gaze. "No...other...way..."

I nodded and didn't find it difficult at all to imagine a monstrous turtle shearing off the Cultivator's arm with an armoured beak.

"More waiting...A trap..." Yi Gim hissed, grimacing in pain as he awkwardly bound the stump of his right arm.

I had initially assumed Yi Gim had issued the Challenge to seek urgent medical aid. However, the news of other invaders lurking within his Realm made more sense. Since he could have just contacted me through the communication talisman for medical assistance. However, a Challenge would get my attention and remove him from immediate danger.

All things considered, it was definitely the smarter play. Especially since it wouldn't prevent him from attempting other means of escape or survival in the meantime.

I extended a new offer of Vassalage.

As much as I appreciated the space and resources Yi Gim's efforts had provided, I couldn't allow him to continue. Not now that he had been crippled, and there were increasingly frequent and organised efforts against us.

Of course, that would also mean taking on another mandatory Challenge each month. However, if anyone had earned such a consideration, Yi Gim had.

"I refuse..." Yi Gim met my gaze with steely resolve. "I can...Still...Fight..."

I couldn't help but glance at the sabre.

The Cultivator's civilisations did have access to magical prosthetics. However, even the most advanced examples I had seen were poor substitutes for a Cultivator's missing limbs. Limiting or disrupting the flow of Chi, weakening the Cultivator's Techniques and overall combat ability.

Acknowledging my fellow Monarch's unwavering determination, I considered potential solutions and safeguards.

Yi Gim had sworn Oaths that prevented him from acting against me. On the provision that I made no intentional steps to directly harm his family and people. So he was far less of a security risk than a stranger might be in his place. This gave us several options I would not have otherwise considered.

"Abandon your Realm-" I held up one hand to cut off the refusal I knew would be coming. "-abandon it, and I will give you a residence within my own Realm. A place where the assassins of our enemies won't be able to reach you."

Giving the offer considerable thought, Yi Gim had a fleeting sense of unease but quashed it a few heartbeats later. "Very well..." His shoulders sagged somewhat, although it was unclear if it was because of his trampled pride or relief.

"I might have the means to skew the odds back in your favour. Once you have recovered, we will discuss it further." A part of me rankled at the prospect of trusting an outsider, and I felt ashamed for hesitating before silencing it.

In my current situation, paranoia was not without its merits. However, it was becoming uncomfortably easy to make increasingly selfish and self-serving choices under the pretence of safety and security.

An unpleasant truth that made the Dao of Tyranny all the more upsetting.

I was not the same man who had died on Earth, and I was becoming increasingly concerned that many of the changes had not been for the better. I had killed hundreds, thousands, of people. Tens of thousands more had been killed at my command. The justification of the violence and death as a means to secure life and liberty for those under my protection was a weak shield for my soul.

The killing was becoming easier, and it didn't bother me in the way I expected it should.

"Gratitude," Yi Gim inclined his head in thanks, drawing my thoughts back to the present. A measure of colour had returned to his face and appeared to be in much better condition than when I had first found him. "If I may further impress upon your generosity-"

"We can take as long as you need," I interjected, guessing at his thoughts.

Yi Gim smiled faintly in response and inclined his head in thanks. "Gratitude.

Drawing a stone throne from beneath the ground, I returned my armour to my Storage Ring and settled in for a long wait. Seeing little reason not to take advantage of the opportunity to decompress. Fully intending to recoup the lost time from a rest period, I would have undertaken after spending time with my family.

As time passed, I became increasingly aware of the pocket dimension and its boundaries. Specifically, how it was gradually growing smaller. Constricting ever so slowly with each passing moment.

Further observations revealed that the invisible boundaries were closing in with increasing speed. The acceleration was minor, but otherwise impossible to ignore now that I had become aware of it.

It wasn't difficult to guess at the function's purpose either. No doubt intended to force the participating Monarchs and their proxies into conflict and force a conclusion. While I had no way of knowing for sure, I strongly suspected that the constriction wouldn't end until a victor was determined. Potentially crushing all remaining participants to force a final outcome.

After close to an hour of rest, Yi Gim consumed more of the pills and the most potent of the elixirs. Settling into deep meditation, which accelerated his recovery by leaps and bounds.

Roughly ten minutes later, he appeared close to peak condition. With the exception of his missing forearm.

Retrieving his sword from the ground, Yi Gim seemed to consider returning it to its scabbard but decided against it. "The beasts will have moved from where I last saw them..." Awkwardly holding the blade under the pit of his damaged arm, he bound the exposed tang with strips of cloth to allow for a better grip.

"Practically guaranteed," I agreed. "I'll come for you when the Challenge ends. Will you be able to reach the city where I last visited?"

Yi Gim nodded, his jaw set in grim determination. "I was forced to flee the city. However, I was not far when you accepted the Challenge." He sighed and released a strained sigh, "I should have thought to make the Challenge sooner...Or at least attempted to make contact..." His voice was heavy with regret and self-recrimination.

Unsure what to say, I remained silent. Objectively, he should have acted sooner. However, I wasn't nearly so naive as to discount the panic he had likely experienced and wasn't confident that I would have acted much differently in the same circumstances.

"What has been done is done..." Yi Gim released a deep sigh and reaffirmed his resolve. "Are you prepared to accept the newly acquired territories? I did not have the opportunity to inspect them, so I am uncertain of the dangers they may contain."

"It's fine," I replied calmly. "I have measures in place to account for any dangers that might exist."

Yi Gim was vaguely aware of the methods I employed for Realm security, but always made a point of asking. Whether it was out of politeness or self-interest for his family was unclear, but ultimately inconsequential.

"Alright..." Yi Gim took a moment to roll his shoulders and stretch his legs. Preparing himself for an immediate confrontation. "I surrender."

In less than a fraction of a second, I reappeared in the temple grounds.

With a thought, I confirmed that the newly acquired territories had been partitioned into quarantine. From experience, I had a vague idea of the overall population density. More recent experience made my heart sink as I recognised the signs of a mass culling in progress.

Acting quickly, I pulled the Daemons and Ophelia from their duties and relocated them to the hardest hit locations. Relying on their natural hardiness and a hastily issued quest to see them through the initial confusion. 

Immediately afterwards, I deployed the peacekeeping force of volunteers en masse, issuing them the same quest but relocating them to a single location as a unit more than five hundred strong. Formed from Cultivators of previously Conquered territories, the volunteers and their commanders had all passed rigorous inspection to determine their moral fortitude and martial capabilities. However, the majority were not volunteering out of altruism or a love of their fellow man. They were in it for the rewards.

Not that I would fault them for it. Greed, within reason, was perfectly fine. Provided they got the job done.

Trusting that Gric would handle things in my brief absence, I gathered my Mana and concentrated on my memories of Yi Gim's city. Experiencing a trace of resistance, I considered delaying the Spell.

Instead, I used my authority to call Sebet to my side as insurance and then teleported us both.

"A little warning would-" Sebet began to snicker, but stopped dead, suddenly on alert and scanning our surroundings for danger. Crimson armour materialised over her body, and a multiheaded whip appeared in her right hand. <This is a trap! We must retreat!> 

Even with the warning coming at the speed of thought, it was already too late. I could feel the energy of the Formations restricting my Mana in a similar manner to the Spatial Anchor Spell.

<Find someone with information on the Formation blocking teleportation! No restrictions!> I replied grimly. Unwilling to put our lives at risk for the sake of an enemy withholding vital information.

The command gave Sebet pause, but only for a moment. Like a dog let off its leash, she bolted headlong toward the north-east, and presumably her first victim.

Expanding my senses, I withdrew the communication token from my Storage Ring. <The enemy has set a Formation blocking our retreat. The plan has changed.>

<What will you do now?> From the tone of resignation in his voice, it seemed he expected me to simply cut him loose. Perhaps viewing his recent disability as a liability.

<First, WE need to join up.> I made sure to emphasise our continued partnership. 

Besides the fact that we stood a much better chance at survival as a team than alone, I wasn't going to cut an ally loose out of misplaced anger or fear. I had made the decision to enter his Realm and should have taken the warning more seriously.

<I am approaching the city from the coast to the west.> Yi Gim replied, his voice positively thrumming with unspoken gratitude and relief.

<I will come to you. Retreat into the water. Don't start a fight if you can avoid it.> I insisted, already on the move toward the bay.

As a Cultivator, Yi Gim could hold his breath for a considerable amount of time. Combined with his Water Affinity, he could probably remain submerged a good while longer. Although I still wasn't certain how long that would be.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. If the worst came to worst, Yi Gim would be many times safer in or on the water.

<I understand.> Yi Gim replied determinedly.

Gathering mana as I ran in the direction of the ocean, barrelling straight through stone walls in my way, I Summoned two projections of Sebet and let them loose to hunt alongside the original.

Burning through so much mana carried undeniable risks for a long-term engagement. However, without actionable intelligence for our current situation and potential dangers, the mana wouldn't make much of a difference.

Besides, mana could always be regenerated. So it was better to spend it now than to have regrets later.

My movements had not gone unnoticed, and I could sense several Cultivators headed in my direction.

Looking over my shoulder, I wasn't particularly surprised to find what looked like an armoured seventeen-foot-tall gorilla gaining ground in my wake. Charging headlong through the broken walls and buildings, I was so graciously clearing out of its way.

Despite being confident I could put the beast down with little chance of sustaining an injury, I decided against expediting a confrontation. There was no telling what tricks it or the other Cultivators trailing behind us were capable of bringing to bear. It just wasn't worth the risk.

Besides, if the beast was stupid enough to come within reach of the water, I could just drown it without taking on any of the risk of a head-to-head battle.

To maintain my lead, I began manipulating the broken masonry with my Chi. Using my Earth Affinity to assemble ramshackle barricades before withdrawing my Chi.

The barricades weren't strong enough to slow the beast by much, but it wasn't costing me anything either. However, it did provide me with a better appreciation for its capabilities. Specifically, the true danger the beast represented.

The near-hairless gorilla hadn't blinked once since it began the chase. Leaving dust and debris to hit its eyes without so much as flinching. Worse still, despite its extreme exertions, the beast itself was completely silent.

The plates of its armour rattled and clattered, and its massive fists and feet thundered against the ground. However, the beast made no vocalisations of any kind.

With a sinking feeling in my gut, I narrowed the possibilities and realised my original escape and counterattack likely wouldn't work.

I was unable to perform a more detailed scan of the beast's energy to confirm my suspicions without either drawing closer or diverting focus from my withdrawal. Which left me with an uncomfortable degree of uncertainty.

The Gorilla's behaviour was something I had witnessed first hand and unsettling up close when confronting the undead. However, I sensed no Death-aligned energies coming from its body. A contradiction to the animated corpses occupying the barren fields of Gu Lin's former territories.

It was possible that not all undead contained such energies. I had no way of knowing for certain. Least of all in my current circumstances. However, a gut instinct continued to insist that the core of my assumptions wasn't wrong. That the creature chasing me with single-minded killing intent was not alive and was animated by external means.

I felt the connection to one of Sebet's projections disappear without warning. Before I could internalise what had happened, the second projection disappeared as well.

<They have-> Sebet's warning was interrupted as an explosion of pain flooded through our mental connection.

Blood spattered the inside of my helmet as my exertions expelled the fluid from my nose.

<Sebet?!> I took in the pain disrupting the connection and forced it down. I used the sensation to draw out more adrenaline and strengthen my resolve.

<B̴̧̘̜͉́̏̽̈̿̓̋̈́͒̂̇̕̚͠͝å̷͙̫̥̩̮̗̲̜̄̋̍͜n̶̗̥͎͙̩̞̭̤̻̹͎͍̥̾̂́̾̌̏̌̍̂̚͜͝i̴̢͍̝͕͍͉̠͓̞̤̟̦̽̊̎̌̓͒̓͘̚͜͠ͅs̶̫̣͊͌̿̇͠h̴̢̳̫̀̓̈́͂̇̅͘m̶͚͙̉͆̐̐͑̋e̶̡̢̲̦̣͖̤̼̙̠̗̦͚̟̋̆̉̎̇n̶̗͍̜̞͍̗͓̍̅̽͊̅͊͋͊̊̆̽͐̓̀́t̵̢̟͓͓̂̅̌̅̏͋̑̽́̌͗́̌͑̈́!> Sebet's reply was distorted and incredibly faint, like a radio with poor reception. Her projected thoughts blurred and unfocused. <T̸̡̧̳͙̺̗͇̭̙̾̑̈́̈͊̈͒̃͛̃̄̉̓̆̐ŗ̶̢̜̼̎a̴̢̺͍̺̞̣͚̳̖͐̈́̅̐́̕͜͜͝͝ͅͅp̸̧̲̟̩͔͙̝̬͔͖̻̻͊̽̌̓͋̈́̏̌̐̍̉̉͐̿͘p̴̢̼̼̐̌͆̑͒̌͆̆̿́͌̚̚ĕ̴͕͑̾̋̊͊͑̍̇̿̋͆̚d̸̯̘̱̩͙̳͈̐̽̊͋̅̏̌̚ͅ!̵̢̡͖̱̖̜͎̥̤̈́̃̃͘>

Uncomfortably aware of the Devil's sado-masochistic relationship with pain, I had to assume the underlying cause for the pain itself had to be responsible.

Now torn between freeing Sebet and regrouping with Yi Gim, I couldn't help but curse myself for being so impulsive. My only consolation, the fact that Sebet did not appear to be in immediate danger.

I felt Sebet restrict the connection. She withdrew the chaotic mess of thoughts back into the confines of her own mind.

Taking this as a sign of her approval, I committed to regrouping with my fellow Monarch as my first priority.

<I will come for you!> I promised. Too stressed to be upset, as fragmented traces of amusement filtered through the remnants of our connection.

More Cultivators had joined the chase, and I could see a small number of them sprinting along walls and leaping from one rooftop to another with impossibly long strides.

Although weaker than the gorilla, the human-sized Cultivators held the same unnaturally unwavering gaze from behind their cloth and clay masks. 

Experimentally reaching out to one of the nearest Cultivators with my Earth Affinity, I seized control over the mask and violently snapped the Cultivator's head to one side.

The Cultivator didn't even lose its footing. Doggedly continuing the chase. The simple clay mask crumbled as the creature swivelled its head back into position. Revealing a pale, ashen face with dead, empty eyes.

Crashing through the final defensive wall of the city, I leapt into the surf with renewed vigour. Wasting no time in infusing the surrounding water with my Water Affinity and drawing myself further out to sea. Altering course just enough to follow the coastline while remaining deep enough to slow any of the living dead that might try to chase me into the water.

Against my expectations, the corpse Cultivators didn't follow me into the ocean. Instead, they continued to give chase along the coast. Accelerating their pace to match my own without expectation of fatigue or exhaustion.

<I am being followed.> I warned, sending the message through the communication token. Leave the beach and head into the water.>

<Understood.> Yi Gim's reply came almost immediately, positively thrumming with mounting anxiety. <Wait! I sense something in the waves!> There was a flash of panic. <There is a Demonic Beast in the water that possesses a powerful Water Affinity! I barely escaped! I cannot reenter the water!>

Suppressing a flare of irritation at the unforeseen setback, I reevaluated our options and took a calculated risk. Redoubling my speed by combining control of my armour with Earth Affinity and firing myself through the open air like a living missile.

Salt and sand tore at my translucent eyelids, and the wind howled as it passed through the gaps in my armour.

Vision blurred by the protective skin over my eyes, I was unable to make out details of anything more than a dozen or so feet from my own face. Forcing me to rely on the link formed by the communication token to measure the remaining distance between myself and my ally. An untested and potentially disastrous prospect I would have avoided in different circumstances. Given that I was moving too fast to alter course or decelerate at short notice without injury.

<Hold tight to the sword!> I commanded, expanding the range of my control but limiting it to stone infused with my own blood.

Just as I had expected, the connection provided by the communication Formation was a poor gauge for distance. However, the presence of my own blood was a different matter. The instant the sword came within reach, it was firmly seized under my control. Dragged in my wake and drawn hastily toward my body.

Near-deafened by the wind, I felt the impact of the blade against my armour but barely heard it.

Decelerating in as controlled a manner as I could manage, I awkwardly lowered myself to ground level. Doing my best not to accidentally crush Yi Gim without leaving myself on a bad footing against a potential ambush.

"Gratitude!" Yi Gim panted, his armour all but missing and his combat robes reduced to a torn and bloody mess.

"Change quickly!" I withdrew an emergency spare set of magical armour from my Storage Ring, dropping it onto the ground. Summoning five generic Human projections with a sliver of mana to assist.

All the while scanning the not-so-distant water and the beach leading to the nearby city for signs of danger.

Planting his sword tip down in the sand, Yi Gim stripped to his underclothes without a single word of protest. Allowing the projections to pull the padded gambeson over his head and buckle the steel breastplate and other segments of the armour over his body. Magically adjusting to his precise requirements, the armour's design was clearly unfamiliar to him, but didn't impair his movements in any meaningful way.

"One of my subordinates has been captured," I explained grimly. "However, it is unclear if it was through strength of arms, subterfuge, or their incompetence."

Yi Gim nodded in understanding. "How do you recommend we proceed?"

I wasn't sure, but I did my best to project an air of confidence all the same. "We need information. These beasts and Cultivators. Those I encountered in the city were undead. Living corpses animated by internal energy," I clarified, uncertain if my fellow Monarch would be familiar with the term.

Yi Gim's eyes grew wide, and his already pale face grew a shade lighter. "You are certain?" 

I nodded. "However, they were not entirely the same as those I have encountered in the past. Possessing no Death Affinity that I could sense."

Yi Gim grew increasingly concerned. "Did these Cultivators bear a mark of their allegiance?"

Sparing a moment to review my most recent memories, I shook my head. "Besides hiding their faces behind baked clay masks, they had nothing else that might signify a shared identity."

Yi Gim appeared both relieved and disturbed by this new information. "I do not believe they are possessed by evil spirits...I would need an opportunity to inspect one of these enemies for myself to be certain. However, this description matches rumours of the Black Hand. A sect of Cultivators that specialise in assassinating, animating and then remotely controlling the corpses of their targets..."

That sounded like necromancy to me, just with extra steps. However, if Yi Gim was convinced there was a noteworthy difference, I wasn't going to dismiss his perspective out of hand. "Remotely controlling?" I pressed for clarity. "Experiencing the world through the eyes of their puppets? Not just commanding them from a distance?"

"I do not know for certain..." Yi Gim replied quietly. "Rumours were often exaggerated and unreliable..."

That was fair enough. Expecting a solid confirmation one way or the other was wishful thinking on my part. So I changed focus. "Do you think destroying or damaging these puppets would harm the Cultivators controlling them?"

Yi Gim gave it some thought for a few moments and then nodded. "The damage might be minor and temporary, but severing such a connection would certainly cause a measure of unavoidable backlash."

"Good," I grunted. Uncomfortable with the prospect of engaging in a battle of attrition where the enemy suffered no loss for their efforts.

A dark shape had appeared in the water and was approaching the beach.

Yi Gim looked to me to make a decision.

"We need more information," I repeated. "And removing this piece from the board will shift the balance back in our favour."

Yi Gim nodded to show he understood. "I will follow your lead."

I nodded back and withdrew a brace of arrows and my warbow from my Storage Ring. "If it tries to retreat, focus on slowing it down. Don't be a hero."

"Understood!" Yi Gim sheathed the crimson sabre through his new belt and concentrated on saturating the nearby water with his Chi and Water Affinity.

Mere moments later, a two-story-tall sapphire-shelled crab burst from the surf. With a host of writhing grey tentacles protruding from holes in its shell and toxic ooze frothing from its palpitating feeder mandibles.

Nocking an arrow, I waited for my moment to strike.

Despite the beast's reckless advance, I wanted to be certain it couldn't readily escape after whoever was controlling it realised the danger they were in.

Yi Gim's control over the water was contested, and I felt him deliberately give ground before the enemy Cultivator. Feigning weakness while conserving his strength in a bid to lure the beast into our ambush.

Seemingly only too willing to accept Yi Gim's inferiority, the giant crab crashed through the shallow waves with renewed vigour.

Gathering mana into the stone head of the arrow, I took a deep, calming breath, took aim, and loosed, calmly exhaling as the arrow leapt toward its target.

Prepared to adjust the course of the arrow with Earth Affinity if needed, I felt a small thrill of satisfaction as the arrow found its mark without interference.

Diving deep through one of the cracks of the giant crab's shell, the arrow then exploded. Sending chunks of meat and chitin flying from the beast's back. Its tentacles flailed wildly, groping blindly through the air and writhing with anger.

Yi Gim saw his chance and initiated a counterattack for control over the waves. Significantly impeding the 

I loosed two more arrows in rapid succession, but an invisible force deflected them before they could penetrate the shell. Instead, it detonated prematurely and driving the massive crab onto its back and leaving its legs flailing in a panic.

Substituting a small amount of HP for the mana cost, I loosed a fourth arrow and took a half step to shield Yi Gim with my body.

The invisible force attempted to deflect the arrow like the others, but I was ready for it this time and remotely corrected its course before allowing the Thundering Strike Spell to detonate.

The soft undershell of the crap erupted in a fountain of gore. Its insides were utterly destroyed alongside whatever had served as a base for the Black Hand Cultivator's control.

Too late, I felt hardened steel impact against my stone breastplate. Wooden splinters and a blunted spearhead flew past my chest an instant later.

Resisting the urge to trace the original path of the spear, I shifted the earth beneath Yi Gim's feet to place myself between him and the enemy.

A second spear slammed into my exposed elbow, scratching my thick skin but failing to draw blood.

Somewhat reassured by the difference in our strength, I had to resist the urge to look for the archer for a second time. While my second set of eyelids provided an emergency layer of defence, they were far thinner than the thick armoured skin of my forearms.

Stowing the arrows and bow into my Storage Ring, I withdrew a tall crimson rectangular shield in their place. Appearing just in time to intercept a third spear.

"Behind!" Yi Gim cried out, a semi-transparent wall of water rising from the sand and intercepting a hail of regular-sized arrows. Stealing their momentum and causing them to fall to the ground.

"Save your energy!" I barked and waved toward the ocean. "Retreat into the water!"

Another spear crashed into my shield and carried a significantly higher degree of force. However, it fared no better at penetrating the stone than those that had come before. Only for a torrent of emerald flames to spill around the edge of the shield a fraction of a second afterwards.

Yi Gim summoned a much smaller shell of water to protect himself, while I took the hit and attempted to gauge the enemy's strength.

Evocation and elemental style combat was relatively common amongst Cultivators. However, Elemental Affinities were extremely rare.

From the way the flames spilled around my shield, I was confident that whoever was responsible for the Technique didn't have a Fire Affinity. If they had, then it wouldn't have been difficult for them to redirect the flames toward my arm holding the shield or the visor in my helmet.

At least, that's what I would have done with it.

After a handful of seconds, the flames guttered and died.

Waist deep in the surf, Yi Gim swivelled one way and the other to avoid the arrows loosed by the archers harrying our retreat from behind. Intercepting and deflecting those he could not dodge with his crimson sabre.

The Water Affinity within the sabre allowed the blade to sweep through the water as if it were air. Creating curtains of rushing water that swept aside incoming projectiles.

Similarly, Yi Gim's Affinity lent him an unnatural grace. His movements are guided by the ebb and flow of the sea. 

Not even knee deep, I matched Yi Gim's pace and kept my senses on alert for new arrivals.

The welcoming committee had been hard on my heels and wasn't convinced they would simply leave us alone just because I had left the city.

Disappearing beneath the surface, Yi Gim sped through the water like a living torpedo. Putting as much distance between himself and our pursuers as quickly as he could manage.

Stowing away my shield, I invested the surrounding water and my armour with my Chi and followed after him. Albeit with considerably less grace. More akin to a jagged cliff breaking the tide.

Desperate to prevent our escape, the archers redoubled their efforts, and a handful of arrows managed to strike between the gaps in my armour.

Two of those arrows were shorn short and became tangled in the simple clothing I wore beneath my armour. A third arrow released a liquid from a hidden compartment, dissolving a section of my tunic and drying a section of my skin. While a fourth released a jolt of electricity.

Although unharmed, the attacks served as a reminder of the potential dangers. If I were human, there was every chance that any one of those arrows could have claimed my life, or inflicted a telling injury.

Sensing one of the enemy Cultivators entering the water, I immediately shifted focus. Abandoning the retreat and instead seizing the Cultivator with all the energy I could bring to bear. Binding their body with tendrils of animated water and dragging them beneath the surf.

Even if the corpse puppets didn't need to breathe, the sand kicked up by the waves would heavily restrict their vision and cut them off from the sight of their allies.

For my trouble, an arrow narrowly missed the visor of my helmet.

Renewing the retreat toward deeper water with the corpse puppet in tow, I suppressed a grim sense of satisfaction. 

Isolated from the pack, the Cultivator was too weak to present much of a threat. As a test to confirm this assumption, I ripped the corpse puppet's limbs from its sockets. Leaving it quite literally disarmed.

Stowing away the crudely amputated limbs in my Storage Ring for future inspection, I bound the creature in thick stone chains. As much to weigh it down and provide convenient handholds as enabling a secondary means of exercising Affinity-based control over its movements.

The remaining Cultivators made a point of remaining a healthy distance from the water's edge.

There were more of them than I had initially encountered. Easily numbering in the dozens, and with several more giant beasts besides. Their numbers were growing with each passing minute.

A handful of Cultivators took to the sky atop flying swords, but they made sure to keep their distance. Seemingly content with tracking our movements but not so brave as to risk confrontation.

Descending into the depths, I used the Shape Stone Spell to dig a channel through the bedrock beneath the sand of the ocean floor. Tunnelling to form a winding S bend before hollowing out a cavern. Expelling the water with my Affinity left thin but otherwise breathable air.

Next, I formed walls to keep the corpse puppet isolated and further interfere with its allies from pinpointing our exact location by homing in on its unique energy.

Grateful for the respite. Yi Gim settled into meditation to restore his spent energy and heal his most recent injuries.

Still in near-peak condition, I snacked on a portion of stored food and inspected the severed limbs of the corpse puppet.

More or less as I had expected, the clothing and light armour were functionally irrelevant. Bearing no enchantments beyond low-grade durability to strengthen the fabrics and resist foul odours.

The pale skin was a different matter entirely. Written using an alphabet I was unfamiliar with, each limb bore strings of formations tattooed into the flesh. Mirroring the circulatory system beneath. 

Given their inert state and a complete absence of internal energy, I felt it was very likely that they were a part of a larger Formation. Dependent on the core of the Formation in order to retain their intended function and remain supplied with the energy they needed in order to operate.

Stripping down the torso revealed more of the tattoos and a whirling cluster over the corpse puppet's heart, abdomen and beneath the hair on the crown of its head.

"It is not too late..." The corpse puppet gurgled. Its lungs are overflowing with seawater and spilling over its dead, stiff lips. Staring up at me with its milky, dead eyes, its attempts at intimidation were beginning to get on my nerves.

The cultivator controlling the corpse puppet had made the same demand several times already and didn't appear to actually understand the words he was speaking. Just the gist of the message. Repeating the lines by rote.

Leaving the corpse puppet behind, I sought out Yi Gim's input.

"Are you familiar with this language?" I asked, presenting one of the amputated arms.

No stranger to the battlefield, Yi Gim didn't flinch away. Instead, leaning closer to better read the characters by the ephemeral light cast by a small enchanted lantern. "I'm afraid not," he shook his head regretfully.

"It's fine," I consoled him. 

It was a long shot, so I wasn't particularly disappointed. It was the isolation that was wearing on my nerves.

Attempts at Summoning my other subordinates had met with failure. Strongly indicating that the Grand Array the enemy had deployed within Yi Gim's Realm was far more dangerous than I otherwise might have assumed. Even my attempts at Summoning Sebet were unsuccessful. However, I wasn't certain if that was caused by the Grand Array or whatever had caused her Banishment. Maybe even something else entirely.

The Arrays I had created to protect our hideout would prevent most forms of teleportation. But if these Cultivators had such a sophisticated Array of their own, it wasn't entirely beyond the realm of possibilities that they could still find a way to bypass them.

Unsure what else I could learn from the corpse puppet, and growing increasingly paranoid. I decided to engage in a simple set of tests.

Removing the chains, I crushed the lower section of the torso beneath my boot. Pulverising the internal organs and grinding the bones to dust.

The corpse puppet cursed hatefully but otherwise appeared none the worse for the damage.

Raising my boot, I brought it down on the creature's ribcage.

The destruction of the second cluster of Formations appeared to place a greater strain on the single cluster that remained. However, besides impairing its movements and coordination, it didn't appear to do much else.

Lastly, I drove a blade through the corpse puppet's skull. The instant the tip pierced the brain, the creature grew deathly still.

"So it's standard zombie rules then..." I muttered quietly. Somewhat reassured by the unexpected simplicity. Having entertained fears that the corpse puppets might possess the means to independently reassemble or otherwise repair themselves. 

Spontaneous reanimation wasn't entirely out of the question, but the energies within the dead flesh were rapidly dissipating. Making the possibility less unlikely by the second.

Still observing the remains, I felt an oddly familiar presence on the periphery of my senses.

Initially assuming it might be Sebet, I subconsciously opened my mind to establish a two-way mental connection. However, the instant I did so, I realised my mistake.

The person on the other end of the connection wasn't Sebet.

It was an Ogre.

Or at least, something the system identified as being functionally similar.

I could sense the rising panic from the Ogre and brought the full weight of my will to bear. Compelling them into inaction while I decided how best to proceed.

Given our current circumstances, it was all but guaranteed that this Ogre was an enemy.

The issue now was deciding what to do with them.

Assuming they were not a corpse puppet, and I was reasonably certain they weren't. The Ogre might prove to be a useful source of information.

Then again...

Normal Ogres were not particularly intelligent. It wasn't fair to call them stupid, but they definitely lacked mental dexterity. Often coming across as quite childish as a result of struggling to express more complex thoughts and ideas.

After several minutes, I had made up my mind.

"Come to me," I commanded. Speaking the words aloud to better conceptualise my intent.

Yi Gim gave me a questioning look. Already rising to his feet even as I waved him back.

"I sensed someone who may be one of my kind," I explained while taking note of the Ogre's initial progress in our direction.

"One of your kind?" Yi Gim inquired, clearly made uncomfortable by this news.

"An Ogre," I clarified. "Or something close to it."

"I see..." Yi Gim considered me for a moment and then looked toward the entrance to our hideout. Appearing to come to a decision, he sighed resignedly and returned to his meditation.

He didn't appear comforted by that distinction. 

Not that I blamed him. If our positions were reversed, I probably wouldn't have taken the news nearly as well.

My absence and plans moving forward.

The short version.
I had started a new job and was adjusing to the change of pace and schedule, and experienced a severe health issue which left very little time for writing. Worse, after recovering, I was incredibly out of practice and struggling with creative writing. Which led to frustration and more writers block.

Conditions at work changed, for the better, allowing more time for me to decompress. Making it easier to write in my free time.

I 'could' have uploaded Part One about a week ago. However, I wanted to prove to myself that I could still write consistently, and that the previous chapter wasn't just a single burst of creativity before another bout of writers block.

I'm doing much better now and I want to thank everyone for their patience. Especially while I was in media blackout mode.

Moving forward.
The two chapters I just uploaded, and any I complete in the meantime, will be restricted for paying members for the next couple of weeks and then made public.

I want to change the payment structure for membership. Specifically, I just want it to be support for my ongoing writing efforts, rather than for specific benefits. I'm perfectly happy with people unsubbing. I actually wanted to remove the tiers outright in a scheduled phase out, so anyone resubbing is making a fully informed choice, but Patreon doesn't allow it while people are subscribed.

I'll also be reposting to Royal Road again. Most likely after work tomorrow/today.

Regarding the two chapters released just earlier. I am aware that they could be 'better' but I just need to get the gears moving again. A part of that process is me needing to accept that things aren't going to be perfect. All the same, apologies.

I also still intend to finish Mana Soul. But that will need to come after Ogre Tyrant. As the formatting for MS is rather time intensive, and I don't want to take on more than I know I can handle. Lesson learned.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 89 - Defying the Heavens - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 89 - Defying the Heavens - Part Two

Tim - Tim’s Realm - Temple of Purgation

Doing my best to ignore the pain radiating from my right arm, I continued meditating. Visualising the process of gradually absorbing the malefic invasive Chi that had attached itself to the circulatory system of my arm.

The lingering effects of a curse that had been intended to take my life, the Technique had not been developed with a target of my proportions in mind. While still dangerous if left untreated, the attack had proven more fatal for the Cultivator who had cast it. Claiming his life on the spot, while only temporarily disabling the use of my arm. Albeit, while also causing a considerable degree of pain, I saw to having it removed.

The powerful Cultivators, especially those ruling over their own Realms, were not in the habit of sharing their knowledge voluntarily. So, with the primary practitioner dead as a consequence of our dispute, I had only the Lord's surviving disciples and family members' limited knowledge of the Technique to serve as a blueprint for safely dispelling it from my body.

Naturally, they had not provided their assistance willingly. Intending to leverage the scraps of knowledge they held in exchange for inordinate favours and positions within my own Realm. However, their arrogance had collapsed and turned to desperate bargaining once Gric began taking their bargaining chips through telepathic means.

I was not opposed to leaving certain institutions intact. To better facilitate a transition of power and minimise suffering. On the provision that those institutions abided by my laws and those running them passed Gric's audits.

The Challenges were becoming so frequent that I had to remind myself not to blindly accept each of them as a matter of course. My dramatic rise in controlled territories had raised my ranking as well, drawing attention from the most powerful Lords of the Cultivation Realms.

The battles and duels had become increasingly dangerous as a result. With few underestimating me and mine, as others had done before. Alliances were also becoming commonplace, with threats of retaliation and coordinated revenge as increasingly credible threats rather than hollow bravado or desperate attempts at strengthening a bargaining position for surrender.

Two attempts at invading my Realm through alternative means to the Challenges had been thwarted thus far. Cultivators using storage devices smuggled unknowingly by merchants from other Realms and into my own through otherwise approved channels. Failing only because of rigorous custom checkpoints and the layered partitioning of my Realm.

Similar plots from Conquered territories failed for largely the same reasons. However, instances of the defeated Cultivators engaging in mass exterminations post integration were becoming disturbingly commonplace. The loyalist forces of the enemy Lords, given and obeying orders to cull the populations as a demented campaign of strategic resource denial.

Overdue for respite from the seemingly endless battles and carnage, thoughts of spending time with my children and Lash made the meditation that much harder.

"Tyrant, my grip cannot hold against this tide!" Zhou Min warned, sweat beading on her brow as she and a small cabal of Daemonic cultivators arrayed about my arm continued their efforts in draining and devouring the cursed Chi from my system by more direct means.

She was right. The negative emotions and slip in my control had caused more Chi than I had intended to pass from my body and into theirs. Coming dangerously close to overwhelming the weakest amongst them. An outcome that would potentially expedite my recovery, but almost certainly cause near irreparable damage to the Daemonic Cultivators themselves.

With little to no foundational knowledge to draw from as a reference, Zhou Min's proposal to excise the curse and consume it as a tool for the development of herself and the other Cultivators had accelerated my recovery considerably. The minor weakening of my internal energy was an acceptable price for the rapid return to peak fighting form. Especially since the lost internal energy wasn't being wasted. Providing a permanent boost in strength to Zhou Min and the Daemonic Cultivators.

It was just a shame that Gric and Sebet could not participate.

While weaker than I, they were both sufficiently powerful that attempting to leech my contaminated internal energy would be considered an attack on my person. Which they were both forbidden from doing. Gric through his Oaths, and Sebet by adherence to our Contract.

Wraithe's medical endeavours had already proven that certain forms of harm were permissible. However, there were also inconvenient limitations resulting from the original Oaths. Abrading dead and dying sections of skin and flesh was perfectly acceptable. Attempting the removal of a key internal organ was not. Even if it was an appendix on the cusp of bursting. The more advanced Abilities in the Surgeon Classes provided alternatives in most instances and skirted the limitations of the Oaths. But it was not something I had thought I would need to have considered at the time I set the Oaths in the first place.

Complicating matters further, Oaths could not be retracted or altered once made.

I had tasked Sebet with drafting new Oaths that would better accommodate certain extenuating circumstances without compromising their original intent. The additional requirement for general simplicity in language and structure was causing issues I had more or less expected from the outset. With several iterations being presented and rejected thus far.

Without Sebet's immutable Contract serving as a guarantor for her motivations, I would have entertained greater doubts regarding her intentions.

In Sebet's defence, the requirement for simple and concise language was not something that came easily to her. With each new draft demonstrating a conflict between Sebet's innate tendencies as a Devil, to obfuscate and maliciously mislead for the most favourable interpretations, and the Contract binding her to the Oaths' intended purpose.

Sebet was making progress, but I wasn't expecting her to have something usable for at least a couple more months.

<My Tyrant, an anomaly has occurred within trials.> Usually subdued, Gric’s telepathic communication carried an uncharacteristic edge of excitement and anticipation. A sensation that I was more accustomed to experiencing, and actively filtering from telepathic conversations with Sebet.

Gric materialised just beyond the invisible boundary surrounding the temple grounds. Pacing back and forth with an intense gleam in his emerald eyes.

Moments later, Sebet appeared in the same manner.

The pair immediately engaged in an animated discussion, as was their habit. However, instead of exchanging veiled insults and baring their teeth in overt demonstrations of hostility, they both carried the same mounting anticipation.

Silenced by one of the Formations surrounding the temple and its grounds, the specifics of their conversation were lost to me. Yet the fact that they had set aside their usual animosity for one another was telling in and of itself.

“Enough,” I commanded, “Withdraw to the secondary pavilion and consolidate your gains. I have matters of state to tend to.”

The lesser Daemonic Cultivators immediately withdrew their auras and retreated from the temple. Only too happy to be given time to process the donated raw energy without outside interference from their peers.

Out of habit, Zhou Min lingered. She used the excuse of rebinding the sacred bandages over the afflicted portions of my arm as a ready excuse. In her defence, I lacked the manual dexterity to perform the binding with only one hand. So it was not a particularly poor excuse.

Channelling my internal energy through the token at my waist, I lowered the defensive Formations surrounding the temple.

Sensing the change, Sebet and Gric wasted no time in making their way into the temple proper.

"What is it?" I asked, preempting a more formal greeting and cutting straight to the matter at hand.

Sebet spared a sidelong glance at Gric for a fraction of a second as she seized the initiative. "News from the trials," her forked tongue danced excitedly behind her teeth, and her mouth was drawn into an unnaturally wide and thoroughly disturbing smile. "IT has happened! Just as I knew it would!"

A scowl flickered over Gric's face but disappeared almost instantly, followed by a flash of confusion before returning to repressed excitement again. "My Tyrant, a Warlock, has chosen you as their patron."

I stared at Gric for what must have only been a few seconds, but felt it like an eternity. The words rebounding within my mind and failing to find purchase. "What? What are you talking about? A I can't be a Warlock's patron..."

Mentally altering the filter that screened the majority of system notifications from my vision, I was shocked to find several notifications I had never seen before.

[ The worship of the devoted has suffused your soul and opened the path of {Divine Cultivation}. The rituals, prayers and continued worship of the devoted are required to continue on the path. ]

[ You have taken the first steps on the path of {Tyranny}, allowing the accumulation of {Tyranny Dao}. Adherence to {Tyranny} is required to continue upon this path. Divergence will cause disruption to the soul. ]

[ The fervent worship and sacrifices of {Lesser Beings} have bolstered your essence and now allows the accumulation of {Divinity}. ]

[ {Stefan Istanopolis} has sworn devotion to your eternal glory in exchange for a fraction of your power. Through this {Pact}, you can bestow and rescind {Boons} and {Banes} in exchange for reserving a portion of their {MP}. The strength of a {Boon} or {Bane} is limited by your maximum {MP}. ]

Without timestamps to mark when the notifications had first appeared, I had no way of knowing how long they had been ignored. However, from context and the fact that I hadn't seen any changes when last reviewing my Status, I had to assume this was a relatively recent development.

Rereading the notifications, I couldn't help but grimace. Filled with an intense discomfort at the overt statement and summation of my behaviour being classified as literal Tyranny. Worse still, Tyranny of such a degree that it was an expression of its purest form.

Of course, even the most favourable reflection upon my policies left no room to hide from the truth. While serving a greater moral good, the Oaths were literally stripping people of their agency and forcing them to conform to my code of ethical conduct. With tens of millions of people bound by these Oaths, and more being bound with each passing day and hour, it wasn't difficult to see why the system had identified my actions as such.

Besides, it was also a part of me. The very core of who I was created to be.

That was the thought that disturbed me the most.

How much of what I was doing was determined by those who had created me? Was I only acting under the illusion of choice?

The looming war with the self-proclaimed 'Creator' and his hosts of Angels, Daemons and Devils was usually a source of profound stress. However, in this particular moment, it brought a small measure of comfort.

The knowledge that such a confrontation would not be taking place if everything was going according to this Creator's plans. Further supported by the recordings I had witnessed within the facility where I was created.

"You are displeased," Sebet observed, furrowing her brow slightly as she scanned my face for clues. Otherwise forbidden to read my thoughts without explicit permission and forced to rely upon more mundane means.

"It has all been for the greater good," Gric commented, suffering under no such limitations. "Under your guidance, needless suffering is all but eliminated," he continued, absolutely convinced of his words and speaking with the certainty of an accountant who had personally reviewed the numbers.

"I know..." I sighed, taking a moment to clear my head. "It's just that word in particular, it carries a lot of baggage..."

Gric nodded in understanding but didn't appear to agree. "Leadership is responsibility, a burden we take upon ourselves for the good of the many."

Sebet snickered out of the corner of her mouth, earning a glare from Gric.

"You taught me that, my Tyrant," Gric tried to hide a faint smirk as Sebet realised her mistake, but didn't make a significant effort.

"I did," I smiled despite myself. A surge of pride rose in my chest as I reflected upon the influence I had on his development. 

It was a sensation normally reserved for when I was observing my children navigating the world around them. Which made me realise that the Daemons, and Gric in particular, were closer to adopted children than subordinates. Albeit with extremely violent tendencies when left to their own devices.

"A testament to your guidance, my Tyrant," Gric stated in an uncharacteristically subdued tone. An unmistakable glimmer of pride shone in his emerald eyes as he drew himself up to his full height.

Sebet narrowed her eyes, critically regarding us both in turn. Attempting to decipher a hidden meaning or underlying subtext. "Indeed. We are all so much more than we otherwise might have been, thanks to your leadership and magnanimous governance," she agreed, indulging in brazen flattery to insert herself back into the conversation and steal a small degree of focus from her rival.

"The Tyrant is most wise and just," Zhou Min agreed respectfully. A reminder that she was still present and observing events with the unwavering focus of a Cultivator.

Instead of dismissing her, I decided to take advantage of her presence to establish a starting point for investigating the first pair of notifications. "Min, are you familiar with Divine Cultivation or the Dao?" I had a vague idea of what the Dao was in philosophical terms, with almost every Cultivator treatise and manual referencing it in one form or another

Unfortunately, these manuals were written in dozens of different languages and hundreds of regional dialects, with a large degree of assumed knowledge involved whenever it was discussed. So I was limited to the relative handful that had been painstakingly translated by Zor into English. A monumental undertaking that had been, at least thus far, otherwise unguided.

Zhou Min bowed her head respectfully, "I have no comprehension of Divine Cultivation. The Tyrant has been most generous, allowing access to the grand repository. However, I have only sought knowledge to better guide my own path..." she replied humbly and somewhat ashamedly. "Ah, but perhaps the honoured grand custodian might be of greater assistance? Or maybe an elder of a powerful clan?" Zhou Min suggested earnestly.

With a thought, I summoned a projection of Zor into the temple.

"My Tyrant!" Zor exclaimed excitedly, evidently glad for the unexpected visit. The spidery legs of her lower body skittered energetically as she took in our surroundings. "How may I be of assistance? I am nearly finished with the text the Tyrantess requested, but require more time to best mimic the illustrative skills of the original artist."

Momentarily confused, I sifted through my thoughts to bring the most recent conversations I had with my wife to the forefront of my mind.

Sebet's smile returned with a vengeance, her cheeks flushing crimson and eyes flashing with lascivious delight. A reaction that told me all I needed to know.

"Your contributions are appreciated, but you are now dismissed." With a thought, I used my authority to relocate Zhou Min outside of the temple, and most importantly, to the other side of the privacy wards.

Taking a deep breath, I stared down at Sebet with a carefully cultivated deadpan stare. "Am I correct in assuming this is some form of sex book? Specifically, one related to certain...exotic positions?"

A flicker of surprise passed behind Sebet's eyes, but disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. Literally incapable of telling me a lie, her momentary hesitation was all the proof I needed.

"This will probably come as a shock to you, but I'm more surprised YOU didn't undertake authoring and illustrating such a book yourself," I commented dryly. "Why did you manipulate my wife to do so in your place?" It was less of a question and closer to a Command, just shy of compelling Sebet to answer in complete detail and without filtering her words.

Already impossibly wide, Sebet's smile grew wider still. Her eyes glinted with triumph. "The Tyrantess was the one to approach me, my Tyrant. I merely served as a guide to several introductory texts..."

Lash's impatience took on a new dimension, and I felt a tremor in the foundations of my ego.

Was I making her unhappy? Prioritising my duties at the expense of our relationship? Was I leaving her unfulfilled?

Gric gave Sebet a scathing scowl, his eyes positively brimming with venomous contempt and disapproval. "My Tyrant...It is not as you likely suspect," He commented somewhat awkwardly. "The texts are intended for education...The Tyrantess believes her lack of knowledge of such things is negatively impacting your prestige..."

"What? How?"The shift in focus was absurd, and I was struggling to understand how it made sense.

"The majority of your court is Human," Sebet chuckled, evidently quite amused. "The local breed is more or less aligned with your own tendencies. However-" She paused for dramatic effect and flourished one arm toward our surroundings. "-the Cultivators, they have entire estates of pleasure boys and girls dedicated to indulging their whims, and they engage closely within their political maneuvering."

"Concubines and courtesans?" I asked, reaching for half-remembered fragments of old history documentaries.

"Just so," Sebet agreed. "The catalyst for the Tyrantess' is related to a specific interaction with one such individual...a Fa Yuen, I believe," she glanced at Gric, who gave a terse nod of confirmation. "That is, of course, her actual name, not the one given by the noble she was accompanying that evening. Our understanding was that she was spying on the nobleman and took advantage of the opportunity to establish contact and a connection with the Tyrantess. Even going so far as to make certain advances..." Sebet raised her eyebrows provocatively.

"She wanted me to cheat on my wife?..." I asked coldly.

"Not as such..." Sebet replied with evident amusement. "I believe the original intention was to have the Tyrantess 'cheat'-" she used airquotes and a heavy tone of sarcasm to underline the word. Which came as no surprise given primal hedonistic tendencies. "-on you, my Tyrant. When that failed, in no small part due to the Tyrantess'...ignorance? Well, more explicit advances were made with intentions toward yourself."

It was easy to understand why Lash would not understand being propositioned by another woman, given how impossibly rare same sex romantic relationships were amongst the monstrous Species. The few exceptions I was aware of, Sebet and Clarice being the most prominent, weren't quite the same as someone from Earth might otherwise expect.

Primarily because Sebet could alter her body at will, and had to have assumed male characteristics at one point or another for Clarice to have become pregnant. The thought of which served as a reminder that she and Nadine were both expecting within the coming weeks. Assuming the eggs produced by Humans and Monsters mature at the same rates.

"Three days," Gric commented neutrally before softening ever so slightly. "Clarice has been sequestered within The Grove alongside Nadine, and they are being given the utmost attention and care."

The change in Gric's tone and demeanour was mirrored by Yor. Both expressed uncharacteristic concern. A reminder that I wasn't the only one they might consider as a parent figure.

Sebet shifted uncomfortably, her mask of overt coquettishness slipping as concern flickered through the cracks. Despite being over a hundred years old, this would be her first child, and I could recognise all of the same doubts and fears I had felt now passing behind her eyes.

Letting the moment pass and allowing the emotions the opportunity to breathe, my thoughts drifted toward my first meeting with Sebet and how she had entered my service.

Thus far, she was the only Devil I had seen, excluding the generic Summons I routinely created for the trials. A reminder that I didn't know her age.

No doubt, similar to the Daemons and Fallen Angels, Sebet likely had an accelerated level of maturity. Reaching the level of an adult within a matter of months, if not weeks or even days.

However, the subject raised a number of other questions. Chief amongst which was how long the artificial world had existed.

Even though it was likely a long shot, I brought the facility tablet to my good hand with a thought and manipulated it like a smartphone while back on Earth. The information contained within was incredibly limited, and I had read, watched, and listened to the contents a number of times before. However, there was something I had not paid much attention to previously, and now took the opportunity to remedy that oversight.

Similar to photos and other files stored on a phone or computer, the contents of the tablet had sequences of coded numbers and letters that denoted time, the date and the file designation type. Using the myriad of files to provide references, I began puzzling through them all to establish a general timeline and then extrapolate the age of the facility.

Confused, I repeated the effort several more times.

"Sebet...How old are those Perpetuals you told me about?" I asked, struggling to suppress the mounting unease I felt within the back of my mind.

Momentarily thrown by the abrupt shift in subject, Sebet stared back at me for several moments in silence. "I am unsure of the exact details..." She hedged warily, eyes darting to scan the shadows in the corners of the room in a show of unguarded paranoia. "The Matriarch, greatmother of my mothers...She is over ten thousand years old..."

If I hadn't already been sitting down, I was certain the shock would have caused me to fall. "Ten thousand? You are sure?" That was several degrees of magnitude greater than what I had been expecting.

Sebet nodded timidly, even going so far as to inch slightly closer to Gric and Yor. An unabashed show of just how fearful the subject made her.

"And this isn't a weird language barrier or cultural difference? Where ten thousand years is actually just ten thousand days?" I pressed, driven by the burning need to scratch the itch in my mind that was only growing worse with each passing moment.

Sebet stiffly shook her head.

"That's...not possible..." I croaked, mentally reeling as I tried to rationalise the disparity between Earth and the artificial world. "They were speaking English, American English...I'm sure of it..." Hand trembling, I opened the last testament of the scientist who had died sending me to Earth.

The words passed through my mind without finding purchase, a paralysing chill clawing at my insides even as the itch abated.

"It doesn't make sense..." I insisted, complaining like a child unwilling to accept the facts staring them right in the face.

A dangerous thought pushed to the forefront of my mind.

"How do I find one of these Perpetuals?" I demanded. My voice carried far more calm and decisiveness than I felt.

Sebet shrank back a step before suddenly finding her nerve. "The Goblin's pet..." She hissed anxiously. "The Daemon with the pale scales..."

"Ril..." Gric shifted uncomfortably. His spirit rankled under the reminder that he was not truly the top of the Daemon pecking order. While his hatchmates all readily turned to him and acknowledged him as their leader, Ril's presence complicated matters for them.

However, if the 'creator' had other Daemons of his own, and it was safe to assume he did, the discomfort was a worthwhile trade if it meant Gric and his siblings could train their minds against their primal instincts. Designed to serve the strongest of their kind in their immediate proximity, it would be devastating for one of them to change sides mid-battle. All the more so if they were injured or killed as a result.

I had spoken with Ril previously, but this particular line of inquiry had not been raised. Mostly because I hadn't thought it would be important, and was driven by more immediate concerns. Now I realise that it might have been a mistake.

"I will speak with Ril later," I decided. Mentally rearranging my schedule to make time I might need to process the answers I was seeking. "Returning to our immediate business-" I turned my full attention toward the pale sapphire-skinned Daemon, Yor. "Within the Cultivator library, have you encountered anything that directly discusses Divine Cultivation?"

Yor closed her eyes and swayed her Elf-like upper body from side to side while pressing her long, delicate fingers against her temples. Her eyelids fluttered but remained closed as she mentally reviewed the hundreds of thousands of texts within her collections. Taking a sharp breath, Yor opened her eyes and nodded in the affirmative. "There are three damaged texts, four incomplete texts, and one complete text that directly references Divine Cultivation. Only one of the damaged texts appears to have direct references to a Technique."

"I want translated copies as soon as you can get them for me," I ordered, Summoning seven copies of the spider-tauric Daemon and dividing my MP between them to make the work go faster.

"Your will be done, my Tyrant!" The small sapphire-skinned Daemons answered in unison before exercising limited authority to return to the library.

"And what of your Divinity?" Sebet asked probingly, apparently put at ease by the shift in subject and emboldened to keep it from returning to troubled territory.

"Yes..." I agreed, "How is this even possible? I'm not an Angel or even a Spirit of any kind..."

"You are something more," Gric interjected matter-of-factly. "Worshipped by millions of souls that shelter within your shadow. This was inevitable." He didn't seem phased in the slightest. Even sounded proud on my behalf.

"I concur," Sebet agreed. "I was not expecting such an occurrence for quite some time yet. Even with the Fallen Angels and Vakyrja acknowledging you as both a superior being and their master, I appear to have underestimated the capacity of the intensity and depths of the new Humans' faith. Which I believe held the greater weight as a determining factor. With so many offering outpourings of daily gratitude, this outcome was, as my colleague so eloquently put it, inevitable." Sebet gave a slight smile as Gric huffed at her needless sophistry.

"But I suppose that raises more questions," I pushed on, trying not to get bogged down by potentially unfounded assumptions. "Most importantly, what can I do with it? Beyond making more powerful magic and armour." I had witnessed Orphiel and Ophelia do as much already, but was convinced there had to be more to it.

Sebet shrugged dramatically, "I must confess, I do not know. And I presume the Fallen Angels are incapable of explaining it all, based upon your previous attempts at conversing on the subject."

I grunted in agreement and made a mental note to set aside time for potential experimentation.

"The Warlock...Stefan, how do these Boons and Banes work exactly?" I was capable of reading a dry description from the system, but figured I would leave that for later and take advantage of the pair's first-hand experience.

"Upon forming the Pact, the Warlock is given a Boon that mirrors aspects of their Patron," Gric explained calmly. "Those under my Patronage are gifted with enhanced speed of thought, limited telepathy and minor increases to their overall durability, dexterity and physical strength."

"Mine can Compel and Charm with their words and presence," Sebet added with a smirk, "Quite useful in battle and intrigue."

"Should they prove themselves, further Boons may be bestowed against a depleted reserve of their MP," Gric continued, ignoring Sebet's interruption. "The greater the Boon, the more MP that is required. Furthermore, a proportionate amount of raw mana consumed from Manastones is taken in payment and delivered to their Patron."

Sebet nodded in agreement and motioned for Gric to continue, acting as if he was only speaking because she allowed it.

Glaring at Sebet with open disdain, Gric took a moment, as if collecting his thoughts. "Banes function similarly but can impose moderate to extreme negative attributes while still reserving a portion of MP and raw mana."

"There are no conditions for imparting Boons and Banes either. The strength of the Boon or Bane ultimately determines the minimum reserve required to facilitate the change, but nothing is stopping a Patron from setting the reserve higher," Sebet interjected, earning another scowl from Gric. "So, an unscrupulous Patron could seize every crumb of their MP and raw mana for their own development. Hypothetically, of course!" She added the last with an exaggerated conspiratorial wink.

"Right..." I commented dryly. Unsurprised that Sebet would be familiar with the means to take complete advantage of such a situation. "I would assume that approach is quite shortsighted in practice? Given the raw mana's benefits have such diminishing returns for Patrons with opportunities for direct access that we enjoy?"

Sebet shrugged non-commitally. "It's not as clear cut as that, I think you will find, my Tyrant. There is a balance to be found where both parties come out ahead, and the Patron maximises their own benefit in a meaningful manner-"

"The Warlocks can serve as external syphons, my Tyrant," Gric interjected, making no efforts to hide his motivations as he gave an antagonising glance toward Sebet. "Simply existing in a mana-saturated environment, the Warlock can multiply their Patron's access to that same ambient mana. Increasing the Patron's rate of Evolution."

"Because there is a limit on ambient absorption, and this somehow bypasses that? I see..." It seemed obvious, now that I had given thought to it.

Gric and the other Daemons had been accepting Manastones as material costs to facilitate Summons from Pact Binders and the host of Summoning Scrolls they had disseminated into the general market. The raw mana was immediately made available to them at the time of the Summons, and the Warlock's Pact seemed to function in the same manner.

Seemingly at the peak of what my Evolution was capable of, raw mana instead solely contributed toward my maximum mana capacity.

This seemed like a net positive, at least at face value. However, the effects of mana addiction were still an area of significant concern. Especially since neither Gric nor Sebet suffered from that same vulnerability, and I appeared to have little control over who could name me as their Patron.

Gric grew increasingly concerned, his repressed anxiety mirroring my own thoughts in real time.

Sebet scowled faintly as she attempted to puzzle out the cause for the abrupt shift in mood.

"The Tyrant has...concerns..." Gric commented sombrely. His tone made it clear it was to be taken seriously, and there was no room for their usual sniping at one another.

The wrinkles on Sebet's brow deepened for several moments before easing abruptly, sudden comprehension reflected in her eyes. "The addiction...Yes, that is potentially quite concerning..." Sebet agreed, all pretences of playful rivalry set aside in the face of the potential disaster. At least, for the time being.

"Is there a way I can prevent other Warlocks from taking me as their Patron?" I asked, exploring potential control measures to cut off a potential disaster in a worst-case scenario.

Gric and Sebet shared an uncertain glance with one another that dragged into an uncomfortable silence.

"Changing Patrons is technically possible..." Sebet replied hesitantly, "But..." She frowned and shared another look with Gric. "We could try limited Warlock trading?" Sebet suggested.

"Intent may play a factor on the Patron's side," Gric agreed. "Testing would confirm as much...However, the Warlocks should ideally be of a low level to minimise the penalties..."

Sebet nodded tersely in agreement, "Agreed."

Several minutes passed in tense silence, and I could sense mana pulsing from the pair in erratic bursts as they undertook their experiment. Although I wasn't initially certain why. However, after directing my inquiry towards the Pact feature, I received my answer.

Beyond the Boons and Banes I could impart to a Warlock, the Pact also facilitated conditional two-way communication. It exacted a cost in MP for both the Warlock and the Patron, but was otherwise capable of transcending any distance between them.

I could tell by the looks on their faces that things did not appear to be going as they had hoped. So, I decided to take a more direct approach. After all, there was a possibility I was worrying over nothing.

Just as I was considering how best to approach the Warlock, I felt a trickle of mana enter my core. Without my Cultivation exercises and training that had enhanced my perception of energies within and without, I might not have noticed it at all.

The sensation came twice more and then stopped abruptly.

Despite my reservations, I used my authority to home in on the Warlock's location. Withdrawing five high-ranking Manastones, I issued a simple Quest and deposited the Manastones in front of the Warlock.

Should the worst come to pass, I was prepared to relocate to the mana-infused lake within The Grove and filter the addictive properties from my body. However, I was becoming increasingly confident that it would not be needed.

The Quest was accepted, and I felt the same flickering sensations in my core. Only this time, they were stronger and easier to examine.

Scrutinising my mana and mind for signs of disruption that might indicate the initial stages of mana addiction, I surrendered awareness of my surroundings and turned my full attention inward.

Like small bowls of water being emptied into an ocean, the freshly deposited mana sent ripples cascading through my core. Diluting and disturbing my mana in its immediate vicinity before being assimilated and becoming otherwise unrecognisable.

This was potentially a good sign. Indicating that the Warlock served as a form of filter, or perhaps that I had 'outgrown' the danger represented by such small volumes of consumption. Or perhaps even a combination of the two.

Issuing another Quest and delivering several dozen more Manastones, I Summoned a projection of Oba Kei. The Daemonic Cultivator was responsible for the education and guidance of my children on the path of Cultivation. 

While he was not the strongest Cultivator at my disposal, he possessed a substantial degree of experience and knowledge. Oba Kei could also be trusted to keep his mouth shut and provide impartial advice without Sebet and Gric's intervention.

"My Tyrant! It is an honour!" Oba Kei bent ever so slightly at the waist and bowed his head as a show of respect. Careful to observe my bans on grovelling and demeaning demonstrations of prostration. "How might I and my clan serve?" His wizened emerald eyes settled on my right arm.

Despite an aesthetic appearance of an eighty-year-old from a painfully dated kung-fu movie, the elderly Cultivator had the vitality and energy of a twenty-year-old. A direct consequence of the Daemonic Cultivation path, which allowed stealing the energy from enemy Cultivators and beasts, in addition to a more aggressive absorption of ambient energies.

"That is not why I have called you. I need you to scan my spirit for signs of change. Specifically corrupting influences from an outside source," I explained patiently.

Oba Kei grew visibly uncomfortable. "To scan another's soul so deeply...as a lowly servant, it would be most improper..."

"Yet you will do it," Gric growled.

The pair had not stopped their own experiments but had both turned their attention toward the aged Cultivator. Stern commanding expressions projected a rare unified front.

Oba Kei didn't flinch, but I felt his Chi quaver briefly before he regained control over himself. "It will be as the Tyrant says. It is not my place to question..."

In other circumstances, I would have taken Sebet and Gric aside. As it very much WAS the elder Cultivator's place to question my actions. Stifling outside perspective was far more likely to do me harm than good, especially when it was provided by someone with a profound well of knowledge tempered by more than a century of experience.

After taking a few moments to calm himself, the elderly Cultivator lowered himself to the floor and settled into the lotus position. Extending his Chi into our surroundings, it quickly became obvious that his spiritual perception wouldn't be capable of penetrating my core without both my permission and assistance.

Lowering my spiritual defences, I coaxed Oba Kei's awareness toward my core.

Trembling like a child navigating a room in the dark, energy contracted upon itself several times over. Recoiling and flinching in response to the minor fluctuations caused by the Warlock's contributions to my mana.

Huffing in exasperation, Gric assumed a meditative stance beside the elderly Cultivator and placed his right hand on his shoulder.

Bolstered by Gric's presence and resolve, Oba Kei's energy renewed its progress toward my core. It came just short of making contact and then fanning out with thin tendrils to form a construct similar to a fishing net.

On a primal level, the foreign energy felt like a violation. Like a parasite squirming through my guts. Provoking responses from my subconscious that required my full attention to contain.

After what felt like an hour, but was probably closer to five or ten minutes, Oba Kei retracted his Chi as fast as he could manage.

Profoundly relieved to be free from the invasive sensations, it took me several moments to notice the elderly Cultivator's deteriorated condition. Sweating profusely and gasping for breath, Oba Kei was shaking as if he was about to be violently ill. "I...I have witnessed the divine..." The elderly Cultivator croaked, his voice as fragile as a dry leaf in a hurricane.

Extending my spiritual senses, I was shocked to find his core was in turmoil. The circulatory system that carried his Chi was ripping itself apart at the seams from the intense pressure contained within.

With a thought, I terminated the Summon before any further mental distress could accumulate.

"The Summon absorbed a portion of your power, Tyrant," Gric explained cautiously while visually inspecting his own body. "I felt a lesser portion bleed into me as well...However, I do not sense anything amiss..."

Sweeping my perception through Gric's being, I felt the faintest whiff of my own power within him. However, it was evaporating at an incredible pace and was gone only a few seconds later.

"Why did the Summon have that reaction to begin with?" I wondered aloud. "He was constructed using my energy in the first place."

"Perhaps not all aspects are replicated within the projections?" Sebet suggested thoughtfully. "Summons have not possessed your unique Affinities either."

"The other Daemonic Cultivators did not have this reaction from feeding on my energy," I commented, uncomfortable with the potential danger I had exposed them to.

"They were feeding upon your energy," Sebet corrected, not entirely disagreeing with me. "Maybe that is why they did not have the same reaction?"

"No," Gric interjected, his tone cold, calculating, and above all, brimming with absolute certainty. "I felt it. Your new power, whatever it is, the Summon's body was not equipped to handle it."

"And the other Cultivators?" Sebet pressed with unabashed curiosity. "You are perhaps suggesting their relative youth is what allowed them to do so and remain unscathed?"

"No," Gric repeated with the same absolute certainty. "The energy is restricted to the Tyrant's core, the Dantian, as the Cultivators call it. The Summons drew close, and the energy rode the connection to his core. If another parasitic Cultivator attempted the same, they would meet with the same fate."

"Interesting..." Sebet murmured. "So it would be safe to assume this same liability would exist when extracting energy from our enemies as well...Except..." She gave Gric an appraising glance, "You did not have the same reaction he did."

"Correct," Gric agreed.

"I wonder if their mythology is a part of this?" Sebet mused aloud. "Holy Demon this, and Celestial Demon that. They have hundreds of such titles within their stories and sensationalised histories. Could there be something to that, do you think?"

"It's possible," Gric agreed for a second time and began to show a measure of irritation at that fact.

"Wel..." Sebet sighed and rolled her back, taking the opportunity to flex her wings and whip her tail. "This certainly is interesting."

Gric rose to his feet but made no reply. Popping his joints and rolling his shoulders as he did so. "There is more..." He grunted somewhat self-consciously. "The Dao of Tyranny has been added to my Status."

Sebet cursed, her eyes flashing with open jealousy. With unnatural swiftness, the anger was gone, replaced by predatory opportunism. "This is all purely conjecture, of course," she purred, giving me her full attention. "To be certain, we would need to repeat-"

"No," I interjected bluntly.

Cut off partway through her passionate oration, Sebet's face twitched. The corner of one eye was spasming as if experiencing a seizure.

Summoning Oba kei for a second time, I motioned Sebet to silence with my good hand. "Did you detect any impurities accumulating while observing my core?" I asked bluntly.

Trembling slightly, Oba Kei bowed his head and saluted by pressing his fists together. "My Tyrant, I detected no impurities...However, should they exist, I am not confident I have eyes worthy to see them..."

"He is being self-deprecating," Gric explained bluntly. "Witnessing your core has sparked a reaction not dissimilar to an inferiority complex." He planted a clawed hand on the elderly Cultivator's shoulder in a rare show of empathy. Although it was unclear whether Oba Kei appreciated that fact or not.

Momentarily distracted by Gric's emotional maturity, it didn't escape my notice that Sebet appeared more than a little annoyed.

No doubt entertaining thoughts that I was playing favourites. Which was fair, since that was exactly what I was doing. Because I could trust Gric in ways I would be foolish to even consider trusting her, Contract be damned.

"Your services have been appreciated. Is there a boon I might give you or your clan in compensation?" I asked, projecting an air of benevolence to ease the guilt for the pain I had caused.

"The Tyrant has been more than generous, I couldn't possibly-" Oba Kei responded hurriedly.

"He would like a prime of place for his clan's participants in the integration trials," Gric interrupted bluntly and without judgment.

The elderly Cultivator fell silent but didn't object.

"So be it." It was easy enough to arrange and wouldn't negatively impact the results one way or the other. So I had no problem with it. "However, due to unforeseen consequences-" I glanced down at my bandaged arm with irritation, "Kwan will be attending in my place. This experiment is too important to delay any further, and his presence should ensure no one has cause to feel slighted."

"It will be our honour!" Oba Kei replied excitedly.

The Cultivators had an odd obsession with dragons of all stripes. Technically, Kwan was a breed of sea serpent. However, his immense size and prestige as my Bonded Companion made the difference nonconsequential.

With a great deal to think about and more work still demanding my attention, I dismissed the projection and concentrated on the recovery of my arm. Depending upon how well Kwan handled his first public appearance, I was considering sending projections of him to handle other Cultivator-related matters as well.

At the very least, I figured the opportunities to socialise would do him good. Perhaps even expand his use of diction beyond single-word statements and into complete sentences.

It was a long shot, but I was optimistic. It was just a matter of time and motivation. So it was a good thing. 

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 89 - Defying the Heavens - Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 89 - Defying the Heavens - Part One

Tik - Tim’s Realm - Sanctuary

Chewing idly on a strip of spiced meat, Tik leaned over the thin wooden railing, taking care to keep a firm footing to avoid tumbling over. So far off the ground, it would be a mistake he would likely only make once in his lifetime. The nets hanging below the railing might arrest his fall, but Tik was quite lithe and stood as much of a chance of tumbling through the gaps as being caught by the ropes.

After all, the netting was intended for trade goods, not for catching clumsy Goblins.

All the same, the view made the risks more than worthwhile. Higher up than even the tallest trees, Tik could very nearly see all of Sanctuary. Only the Tyrants Grove was hidden from him, concealed beneath the leaves and branches of impossibly tall trees.

Stepping back from the railing, Tik cast his eyes over the open deck, taking in the handful of other passengers.

Gunter, a Dwergi smith, was firmly planted near the rear. Seemingly obsessed with the rapidly spinning blades trailing behind the boat. Every so often, he would mutter something and gnaw at one of his nails. All the while glowering at the shiny metal like it had stolen his last meal.

Tik had tried speaking with the irate Dwergi earlier and had quickly learned that it was best to leave him be. Tik didn’t know what a coaxial efficiency was, but he could tell from the spittle flying from Gunter’s mouth that it wasn’t good.

The strangely dressed Humans were better company by far. Although they all dressed like females, wearing long silk dresses and sprayed themselves with flowery stink, they had a fine appreciation for shiny stones. An appreciation Tik shared. He even had the good fortune to trade a small green shiny stone for a small bag of milky white shiny stones in exchange. Tik wasn’t sure why they liked the green stone so much, but he would remember it for the next time he saw others of their kind.

The Harpies, roosting on the railings at the front of the boat, liked shiny rocks as well. However, Tik knew better than to approach a flock of Harpies on his own. Without at least a couple of strong helpers to keep the Harpies at arm’s length, they just might snatch the shiny rocks and fly away without giving anything in trade. Tik had seen other Goblins make that mistake before.

Not that Tik blamed the Harpies. They simply weren’t that smart. Barely more than hatchlings, really. Once they spotted something shiny, they just had to have it.

The pair of Serpent-Kin were the opposite, which Tik found just as frustrating. They had almost no interest in his shiny stones at all, seemingly content with quietly watching the sights below. Tik could only assume that shiny skin must mess with their heads somehow, perhaps distracting them from seeing how shiny Tik’s stones were. They had even given Tik a few shiny coins to leave them be. A deal he was more than happy to honour, given their obvious lack of interest.

A sudden rush of heat and the roaring of a savage Beast drew Tik’s attention toward the strange metal oven near the back of the boat. 

Taking a calming breath, Tik scowled at the strange oven for several moments before making a point of looking out over the railing again.

As if frightened by the savage roaring of the oven, the boat had begun flying higher into the sky.

“BRACE!” The warning came almost too late, barely affording Tik enough time to snatch at the railing as something impossibly large flew past the boat.

After the cries of alarm had settled down and the deck stopped rocking, Tik searched the sky for the source of their current distress.

Throat suddenly dry and knees weak, Tik’s anger guttered and died.

Dragon.

All scales, teeth and claws, the sight of the massive Beast triggered a host of survival instincts that left Tik momentarily paralysed with indecision. As one part of his brain screamed for him to run, and another insisted that they collapse to the ground and play dead. Stuck between these two prevailing thoughts, it was all Tik could manage to keep control over his bowels and bladder.

With excruciating slowness, the terror eased and Tik regained control over himself once more.

Trembling violently, like a leaf caught in a storm, Tik clutched at the railing to prevent himself from collapsing to the deck.

Unable to let the Dragon out of his sight, Tik followed its flight with intense focus and noticed a small group of riders mounted on its back.

“Yuan-er, what I would give for the opportunity to ride such a mighty creature!” One of the strangely dressed humans joined Tik at the railing and was gazing with a look of intense longing after the Dragon.

“Perhaps my prince could approach his divine father with this request?” One of the strange humans suggested it with certainty, which Tik found both surprising and woefully misplaced.

“Yes, my prince, my cousin is correct,” Another one of the strange humans interjected energetically. “The standing of our great Wu Empire is not yet well known within this Realm, yet who would dare refuse a request from the divine Emperor of our Wu nation?”

The first Human nodded in agreement, his smile broadening considerably. “Then I will send my illustrious father a message! After all, to ride a Celestial Dragon would only add to our Wu family’s prestige!”

“She not say yes...” Tik interjected with a firmness and decisiveness that surprised even himself. His comment immediately drew the attention of the strange Humans. Tik gulped hard, his mouth suddenly quite dry under their collective scrutiny.

The lead Human looked to his second and faintly motioned toward Tik.

The second Human stepped forward. “Esteemed merchant Tik, our familiarity with your customs is somewhat lacking. However, I feel this is a trait we both share at this time. Would you please elaborate upon your assertion? Surely, there is some misunderstanding that has led to your outburst? After all, fifth prince, Wu Hei, is not a small figure, and our Wu Empire is not without a small amount of prestige-”

Tik couldn’t help but scrunch his face in confusion as he struggled to follow the strange Human’s meandering means of speech. “Dragon not care,” he explained bluntly, weakly pointing toward the dragon, which was now circling the Tyrant’s Grove.

A faint trace of anger flitted across the Human’s face but disappeared almost immediately. “Friend Tik, may I ask why this is so? As we have seen, the bearing of passengers is not beneath this Celestial Dragon’s dignity, and surely bearing the fifth prince would not tarnish its prestige-”

“Dhizi not care,” Tik repeated, choosing to call the Dragon by name this time. “Dhizi fly with who Dhizi chooses...”

The first Human stepped forward. “And this esteemed Dhizi, merchant Tik feels she would not choose this one?” He pressed his right hand to his chest to indicate he was referring to himself.

Tik nodded decisively.

The Humans were collectively crestfallen at the news.

“Ummm...” Tik fidgeted nervously, uncertain if he should proceed.

“Is there something friend Tik would like to say?” the third human, a female, asked with a hint of hope in her eyes.

“Dhizi no take...” Tik hedged. “Maybe...Maybe Cooper takes? Maybe Ushu?” He suggested.

The female shared a glance with her companions before returning her attention to Tik. “Friend Tik, we do not know these names...Would you perhaps enlighten us?” With a flourish of her wrist, several shiny stones appeared in her hand, and she offered them to Tik, “We would most appreciate your wisdom on this matter.

Not meaning to be rude, Tik snatched the shiny stones and secreted them away within the hidden pouches scattered across his person. “Cooper Ushu’s daughter. They bigger, Dhizi small. Like metal shinies!” Tik withdrew a particularly valuable coin from his most secret pouch and held it up for the Humans to see. “Humans give many shinies, Dragons fly Humans!” He put the coin away, not wanting to be rude and trick the Humans into thinking he was giving it to them.

The strange Humans shared another look amongst themselves.

“Friend Tik, we appreciate your guidance,” the female withdrew several large shiny stones. Larger even than the ones Tik had traded for on their first meeting. “If friend Tik could assist with the necessary introductions, we would, of course, be most grateful for the assistance!”

Tik grinned widely and graciously snatched the shiny stones, so they wouldn’t tumble off the boat. “This Tik do!” He agreed excitedly, more than happy to receive shinies for almost no effort. Waving for the Humans to follow, Tik crossed over to the other side of the boat and pointed over the railing toward the Human trading district located on the edge of Sanctuary’s boundary. “Talk Asrus-bassadoor! She talk, she help!”

“Does friend Tik perhaps refer to the Asrusian ambassador?” The female asked somewhat uncertainly.

“Asrus-bassadoor!” Tik agreed emphatically. “She talk, others talk, Humans fly Dragons!”

The strange Humans smiled pleasantly, and Tik was given another handful of shinies for his help. Then, without warning, they drew swords seemingly from nowhere and leapt off the boat. However, instead of falling to their deaths, the Humans’ swords pulled them through the air and toward the Human trading district.

Watching the Humans leave, Tik struggled to understand why they were so desperate to be carried around by the Dragons. Especially since they already had the means of flying around on their own, more or less. However, the reassuring weight of his recent gains quickly outweighed Tik’s curiosity, and he was instead increasingly grateful that he had been in the right place to take advantage of the opportunity.

Myra Silverbrook - Tim’s Realm - Sanctuary Trading District.

Although newly assigned to her current post, Myra still found it odd to be sitting on the opposite side of her own desk. Of course, it only made sense that her superior would take the prime position during their meeting, but it didn’t stop a small part of Myra’s subconscious from rankling at the subversion and displacement.

Francis Asrus, Lord Regent and ruler of the Asrus Kingdom in all but name, was engrossed in thoroughly rereading her report for what must have been the tenth time since his arrival as many minutes earlier. Possessed of an intense solemn dignity, the weight of his duties could be felt emanating from his person in unrelenting waves.

Even so, it was the sharp, blue-eyed blonde at his side that gave Myra a greater cause for concern. The Doppelganger in human guise. Wearing the appearance of the Regent’s late wife, and in recent months, his ever-present companion.

The shapeshifter would have been a greater cause for concern if not for the fact that it-she. Myra hastily corrected herself. Aware that ‘She’ was capable of reading minds.

An amused smile and knowing look from the Doppelganger made it clear that Myra’s near slip-up had not gone unnoticed.

As unnerving as the monster was, and she made no attempts to go out of her way to be otherwise, the Doppelganger never concealed her true nature. For the Regent, her current form was part of an elaborate act they were both in on from the beginning. There was no deception or attempts at subversion. If anyone was ever in any doubt regarding her true identity, the Doppelganger would make it her mission to educate them.

If the Lord Regent claimed the throne, the Doppelganger would be officially recognised as royal consort. However, with the Lord Regent’s determined stance to see his nephew remain as the rightful King, the Doppelganger's official position was far more ambiguous.

In truth, there was no official marriage or ceremony that would publicly bind her to their cause. Which was most vexing, due to the access the Doppelganger provided to the Tyrant’s inner circle. As both a social companion to the Tyrant and a confidant of the Tyrantess, the Doppelganger's political value was nearly incalculable. Unfortunately, that was also a fact that she made sure officials, such as Myra herself, were never to forget or take lightly.

Were it not for the Lord Regent’s string of daring decisions staving off the annihilation of their people at the hands of their enemies, his current choices, including his choice in companionship, would have seen greater resistance and scrutiny. However, it was difficult to publicly oppose a national hero who had ushered in an age of prosperity and plenty that no one had ever dared dream possible.

While some nobles still rankled at the thought of bowing the knee to a monster, their voices had grown increasingly quiet. Partly because the Oaths prevented those grumblings from taking credible form, but mostly because the more time they spent complaining, the more powerful and better connected their political rivals became.

The writing was on the wall, for all to see. The future lay with working with monsters, together, for prosperity and plenty, for everyone.

The enforcement of the Tyrant’s laws was brutal and unforgiving, but they were nothing if not just. Commoner, nobility and royalty were all bound by the same oaths and faced the same consequences for their actions. A fact that won the Tyrant no small amount of goodwill from even the most ignorant and bigoted of the common folk.

<Utopianism...> A feminine voice scoffed within Myra’s mind, causing her to nearly jump with a start. <So long as the ruler is a good man, it’s fine. But when a bad one takes his place? Well...>

Before Myra could formulate a response, the Lord Regent set down the stack of papers and shifted his attention to the wide jade stone ring resting on a silk cushion within an intricately carved wooden box. 

“Am I correct in assuming this is the gift left by the Wu Empire’s ambassador?” The Lord Regent asked calmly.

“Yes, sir,” Myra stood a little straighter and nodded, clasping her hands tightly behind her back to better square her shoulders and appear more presentable.

“It’s some type of magic storage item,” the blonde purred, stroking her delicate hand down the back of the Lord regent’s jacket. “The Tyrant possesses several such items. You won’t be able to open it. Not without a Cultivator’s magic, anyway.”

The Lord Regent nodded pensively. “Am I to understand they were not aware of this particular oversight, ambassador?”

“To the best of my understanding, sir. The Wu Empire’s ambassador seemed nothing if not eager to see everything proceed smoothly. My staff and I detected no ill-will or attempts at sabotaging diplomatic relations.” Given the differences in culture Myra had witnessed first-hand, it was entirely plausible that her opposite had simply been overly excited and made assumptions, or perhaps had not wanted to embarrass Myra or her team.

“That’s entirely possible,” the blonde interjected, interrupting Myra’s train of thought. “From what I have witnessed, and from the Tyrantess’ interactions, they may not have raised the issue of accessibility because it’s a non-starter. Either you can already open it, and they insult you with the implication you can’t. Or, they learn you can’t, and embarrass you by drawing attention to your ‘disability’,” she raised both hands and curled her fore and index fingers twice in rapid succession to accentuate the last point. “Not having access to magic is like being born without legs, at least, it is in their eyes,” she elaborated.

“I see...” The Lord Regent commented, furrowing his brows slightly and placing the ring under greater scrutiny. He made as if to speak but stopped himself at the last moment, shifting his critical gaze toward Myra.

“She’s not on the list,” the blonde commented. “But bearing in mind the contents of the ring and future interactions with the other Cultivator Factions, it would make sense to put her on it. I honestly doubt Tim would object. He’s far more concerned with people volunteering for it, rather than keeping anyone out of it. Just the same as everything else he tries out. Ethics, you know?”

The Lord Regent nodded thoughtfully.

Myra's position as Ambassador to Sanctuary itself and her proximity to the Tyrant’s seat of power granted her an impressive degree of access and insight regarding the Tyrant’s activities. However, Myra did not understand what the Lord Regent and his companion were referring to.

“Hybridisation,” the blonde stated bluntly with a Cheshire grin on her lips. “Combining their magic and ours...”

“That’s...not possible...” Myra baulked incredulously before quickly collecting herself once more. “Possessing more than one Class, it’s never been done...”

The blonde made as if to speak, but stopped herself.

Instead, the Lord Regent levelled his gaze at Myra. “That is strictly speaking, not true...”

Despite herself, Myra felt her eyes grow wide and her jaw slacken in shock.

“What I am going to tell you is not to leave this room, and cannot be spoken of nor shared with anyone else. Am I understood?!” The Lord Regent demanded firmly, his eyes flashing like cold steel.

Collecting herself, Myra nodded. “Yes, sir! I understand!” Cold sweat trickled down the small of her back, but she resisted the urge to look away.

After a tense few moments, the blond nodded approvingly. “She’s good. We won’t need an Oath. Even without it, her job restricts the people she could attempt to talk to about it, and if Tim’s hunch is correct, it won’t need to be a secret for long anyway.”

The Lord Regent leaned back in his chair and nodded in agreement. “His Majesty’s timetable is rather...brisque...”

“Well, he already knows it CAN be done,” the blond replied glibly with an exaggerated shrug. “Just not if your kind and theirs, can do it.”

“Right, our kind,” the Lord Regent agreed.

“Humans, you mean?” Myra asked, wanting clarification.

“Exactly,” the Lord Regent confirmed. “Several monsters, mostly within his Majesty’s immediate family, have already taken on secondary Classes that were restricted to Cultivators. Furthermore, one individual has also taken on a Class normally only available to us. Proving that there is some degree of compatibility. However-”

“-The Tyrant and his bloodline are special...” Myra interjected, completing the Lord Regent’s thoughts.

“Just so,” the Lord Regent agreed sagely.

“Tim planned on starting the trials within the week,” the blond commented somewhat distractedly. “With all the new Cultivators being processed, he’s been busy responding to challenges, and this is something he wants to oversee personally.”

“If successful, it would increase our fighting capabilities considerably,” the Lord Regent observed candidly. “Every soldier raised to the fighting strength of our most elite cadres...Our elites, to the heights yet unseen.”

“Well...” the blonde wavered her right hand noncommittally. “Yes and no. It’s pretty resource-intensive to get to that level, but the rank and file will certainly get a boost without too much expense, and raising a small handful of super soldiers is pretty doable. I’m pretty sure it’s what Tim intends to do, regardless. Obviously, he’d rather your kind be a part of it all. So people don’t start getting ‘ideas’ about a two-tier system, or develop inferiority complexes over it.”

“A sentiment I believe many will appreciate,” the Lord Regent commented approvingly.

Myra couldn’t help but agree. If the capability of taking on a second Class was restricted to the monsters, it would only be a matter of time before someone would begin fomenting discontent. The gullible and impressionable would inevitably get themselves killed by breaking their Oaths. While not a huge loss on its own, it was possible for them to do a considerable degree of collateral damage before their deaths. Harming innocents even as the Oaths took their own lives.

The blonde smirked and looked away, shaking her head and laughing softly to herself. <That’s not how the Oaths work.> The feminine voice snickered within her mind. <The moment you decide to act. You’re dead.>

Myra resisted the urge to speak her mind.

<So why would the Tyrant care?> The voice asked, giving voice to her thoughts anyway. <Because their deaths are avoidable, and he would much rather be loved than feared. It’s one of Tim’s few weaknesses, a flaw, really. But it’s also what stops him from crossing that line, the one you don’t come back from...>

The hard look in the blonde’s eyes left no doubt regarding whether she had crossed said line herself or the certainty she held for her words. 

There was a certain reassurance in the fact that it let Myra know where she stood. The Doppelganger was choosing to be nice, and if given cause, would just as easily choose not to be if needed.

<Why do you think Tim keeps people like me and that Succubus around?> The voice asked, this time with a harder edge to her amused tone. <We do things he can't stomach to do himself. Things he accepts are necessary, but would find impossible to reconcile if performed with his own hands. Tim can be painfully naive sometimes, but he isn’t stupid. He knows how the world, all worlds, work. You should remember that and make damned sure he is never in a position where he needs to compromise. You’re a part of this now. Don’t disappoint us.>

Myra gulped dryly and tried to centre herself, to make her thoughts her own again. Only to notice something that made her even more unsettled. 

The look in the Lord Regent’s eyes...He had been privy to it all...and the grim set to his brow and jaw all but confirmed her new reality.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Myra carefully evaluated her position. After several tense moments of soul searching, she found that her duties had not really changed. The scope had expanded slightly, but the core mission was still the same. Now there were just additional variables that had to be considered.

Gloam - Tim’s Realm - Demi-Plane of Devastation

Calloused hands firmly locked over the earmuffs protecting his ears, and Gloam shuddered with anticipation. Eager eyes squinted excitedly through the layers of grime and filth that caked his protective goggles. Near blind and deaf, Gloam knew from experience that it would make little difference.

Eyes firmly fixed forward, he watched as a massive Beast with bright red fur raced over the crater-pocked field and in his direction. Easily twenty feet at the shoulder, the savage creature was incredibly fast for its size. Tearing up the ground with its thick claws and powerful arms in its eagerness to close for the kill.

During the early days of his posting, Gloam had found this scene beyond terrifying. Experiencing firsthand the pain of being ripped apart and devoured alive. However, many things had changed since then, and those memories were-

<Firing!> The grizzled voice of the chief artificer crashed through Gloam’s mind like an avalanche.

Gloam could feel his anticipation soaring, his hands and knees trembling with increasing intensity.

A deafening roar sounded from somewhere behind him, and the ground shook violently underfoot. Superheated air ripped over his fingers, whipping up a violent dust cloud and bowing Gloam’s back from the pressure.

Resisting the urge to investigate the source of the noise, Gloam straightened his back and forced his focus back onto the Beast.

Mid-leap, the Beast’s momentum was abruptly arrested, causing its body to violently whip back and to the side as a Dwergi-sized hole appeared in its right shoulder.

<Good hit!> A spotter announced over the telepathic link as the Beast continued to tumble ass over heels in the dirt.

<Reload, recalibrate firing trajectory, and fire again!> The chief artificer commanded coldly. <We don’t stop until it is dead!>

Despite himself, Gloam felt his chapped lips crack into a vicious grin. “YES!” He hissed through his teeth, unbothered by the grit that found its way into his mouth. Retribution always felt so satisfying.

<SECOND WAVE APPROACHING! THUNDER-SPEARS! FORWARD!> A familiar voice barked, positively brimming with authority and a quality that compelled obedience.

The command was not directed at Gloam, but served as a warning as dozens of Human soldiers began skidding into the trench on his flanks.

Each human held a thunder-spear tightly with both hands, while staring out over the trench.

Still very early in development, much like everything else, the thunder-spears were an artifice that required and combined several advanced fields of scholarly pursuits to produce. Although they appeared incredibly simple at first glance, the thunder-spears were proving fiendishly difficult to develop.

Reminiscent of an armless crossbow with a hollow tube fixed to the topside of the wooden stock, the interconnecting mechanisms at the base of the tube had required the input and masterful touch of several senior artificers to meet the Tyrant’s demanding specifications. Having borne witness to several dozen failed iterations and the carnage resulting from several more near-successes in live combat tests, Gloam understood why the Tyrant had redirected so many of the Dwergi’s best and brightest away from their own private pursuits.

The thunder-spears were a weapon of truly terrifying power. Capable of turning even the most inexperienced conscripts into a force capable of slaying Beasts dozens of Ranks higher than themselves without even the need for a complimentary Class. Which was good, because as of yet, no Classes had shown more than a partial synergy with the weapon.

The ground beneath Gloam’s feet began to vibrate, drawing his focus back to the present and the imminent danger.

A horde of Beasts was surging across the open field and toward the trench. Despite the medley of Species, as Summoned beings, they were of a singular purpose and ignored inter-Species rivalries that would have otherwise seen them collapse into infighting.

<WEAPONS READY!> A stout human with a thick beard and a Captain’s insignia took a half step out of the trench, sabre in hand, and mouth mutely forming the words as they were telepathically projected to everyone in the vicinity.

The Human soldiers raised their thunder-spears, resting the butt end of the wooden stocks against their shoulders and pointing the far end of the hollow tube toward the approaching Beasts.

Gloam took the opportunity to do the same. To a casual observer, his thunder-spear looked more or less the same as those carried by the Humans. However, his weapon had a couple of minor yet critical differences. A difference that Gloam hoped would be recognised by the senior echelons of the artificers' guild and pave his way to a greater position of authority and a larger discretionary fund for experimentation.

Several tense moments passed with the stout Human Captain glancing fervently up and down the length of the trench, intensely scanning the faces and state of readiness of his soldiers as the Beasts drew closer. <FIRE!!!> The captain slashed his sabre downward, his teeth bared as he savagely roared the command.

Bright flashes erupted down the length of the trench as the thunder-spears sent finger-nail-sized cones of lead streaking across the open field. Moving faster than the eye could follow, the hail of projectiles was momentarily lost from sight.

The foremost ranks of the oncoming horde tripped, tumbled and collapsed in disorderly heaps. Their lives were cut violently short before they could register what had happened to them. Thick hides and exposed flesh abruptly perforated like fine lace, and the air behind them erupted into a crimson fog that clung to the Beasts coming up behind them.

<RELOAD!!!> The Captain bellowed, compelling a handful of sluggish soldiers back into sync with their cohorts.

The soldiers had been drilled on the new loading method for close to a day before the live test. However, even the most experienced soldiers were struggling to eject the spent metal cartridges and ready their next shot. Hands fumbling as they shook from fear, anticipation, and the sheer bodily mass of the approaching horde, shifting the ground beneath their feet.

Without intending to do so, Gloam subconsciously ran his right hand over the dozen customised shots slotted through the belt hung across his chest. Each was just as thick and twice the length of his thumb. Easily twice the size of the shot being used by the Human soldiers. If the field test went even half as well as the last, twelve shots would not be nearly enough by far. However, it would be sufficient to prove whether his innovation had merits.

Watching the horde draw closer, Gloam felt a protracted and intense sense of doubt. Barely a junior artificer of the first grade, and only through the not-so-significant influence of his uncle, there were legitimate concerns regarding his competency. Concerns his relative youth and bravado could only assuage so far before being forced to face several grim and unsettling truths.

“Shouldn’t be here...” Gloam muttered despondently.

<FIRE!!!> The Human Captain roared, sending another wave of invisible death into the unyielding horde of slavering Beasts.

The latest generation of thunder-spears was already beyond the wildest imaginings of what the most experienced artificers had thought possible. Requiring no Class or Abilities and very little training, they were capable of turning even the weakest Species into a credible threat to be reckoned with.

Another wave of death erupted within the approaching ranks of the horde, winnowing the weakest and leaving the larger and far more dangerous Beasts and other Soulless to take their place only moments later.

Gulping dryly in a futile attempt to wet his throat, Gloam raised his experimental thunder-spear and scanned the horde for a target. Settling his sights on a particularly ferocious Soulless, Gloam took deep, steadying breaths and did his best to stop his hands from shaking.

It was not his first time facing the endless hordes of the Tyrant's trials. However, facing down the horde of summoned monsters brought on the same primal fear each time. Worse, the memories of being torn apart, crushed, and impaled, all brought on a near insurmountable paralysis of the mind.

Many of Gloam’s colleagues had become so mentally scarred that they could no longer participate in the trials. Relying on secondhand accounts from the Human soldiers. This made improving their designs a far more time-consuming process.

A tall, broad-shouldered Orc stepped out of the trenchline, raising a tattered warbanner as high as his heavily muscled arms would allow.

Up and down the trenches, other Orcs followed, leaving the trenches behind and forming ranks around the Orc carrying the banner. Creating a wall of spiked shields and thick shafted spears.

A former military Slave to the empire, Gloam had witnessed dozens of battles. However, without an explicit Command to guide their actions, the monsters had never demonstrated such discipline and unity. Even amongst their own kind, each of the soulless was out to save its own skin. Forever wary of betrayal and willing to sacrifice an ally if it meant buying themself a few more seconds of life. 

A motley assemblage of several SubSpecies, the Orcs were as disciplined as any Human soldiers he had ever seen. While it could easily be attributed to their intense training, there was more to it than that.

A part of which was the dramatic difference in their circumstances. The Tyrant kept no Slaves and suffered no Slavers to live, save those who worked to coopt and break the Enslavements enacted by others. Given a path to citizenship and resettlement, the former Soulless had something worth fighting for beyond immediate self-preservation. A powerful motivation which Gloam understood only too well.

Eyes drawn to the sharp-toothed maw emblazoned upon the Orc’s banner, Gloam felt a calming presence settle upon his mind. He drove out his fears and uncertainty, leaving only a grim determination in their wake.

The world was changing.

The age of oppression and humiliation was crumbling under the Tyrant’s unrelenting will. His determination to create something better. A world where fathers and mothers could watch their children grow in freedom and safety. Where all Species were united under a single creed, equals under the law and free to pursue the destiny of their own choosing.

Spirit burning in his chest, Gloam offered up a silent prayer of gratitude. Renewing his commitment to the cause and the importance of their ongoing experiments.

Spears bristling from their shieldwall, the Orcs braced themselves to face the horde head-on. Sacrificing themselves to both slow the enemy and draw them into a tighter mass.

Up and down the trench line, other formations were doing the same. Abandoning the trenches to maximise the destructive potential of the soldiers that remained.

It was a grim tactic, but the results from previous trials had already demonstrated its effectiveness. Making it a cornerstone of the established battle plan.

Having chosen a target, a horned canine more than twice his own height in the front-most ranks of the horde, Gloam lined up his shot and pulled the trigger.

The thunder-spear bucked in his hands, the stock striking into his shoulder hard and threatening to knock him off his feet.

Staggered but still standing, Gloam felt a thrill of satisfaction as the right side of the canine's skull exploded in a spray of gore. Killing it almost instantly.

Depressing the latch on the underside of the stock, Gloam exposed the rear opening of the barrel and gingerly removed the spent ammunition casing. Tugging free a fresh casing from his bandolier, he slotted it into the rear of the barrel. Snapping the barrel back into place and double-checking the latch had reset as intended, Gloam raised the thunder-spear again and chose another target.

Shoulder aching from the previous shot, his aim wavered and Gloam was forced to rest the stock onto the edge of the trench for support.

Missing his intended target, Gloam's shot still appeared to down the Beast directly behind it. Ripping and mangling one of its forelimbs, causing it to trip and tumble to the ground. Where it was trampled to death in short order as the other Beasts continued single-mindedly charging forward.

Attempting to go through the motions of reloading for another shot, Gloam nearly collapsed as pain radiated from his right shoulder. Driven to his knees, he rested his thunder-spear against the wall of the trench and gingerly probed his shoulder with his left hand.

Doing his best to bear with the pain, Gloam felt a swell of disappointment rising in his gut. His shoulder had become dislocated. Doubtless caused by improperly bracing the stock while firing his previous shot.

"Hey! You alright?!" One of the Human soldiers barked while closing the distance between them.

"Shoulder!" Gloam hissed through his teeth, "Is dislocated!"

The Human nodded grimly, setting his thunder-spear aside as he knelt to bring them closer to eye-level. "I can try to pop it back in," he offered, "But I'm no Surgeon..."

"Do it!" Gloam agreed. Unwilling to abandon the frontlines and have his failure enter the official record.

The Human took a firm hold of Gloam's arm and collarbone. Not so gently pulling the arm away from Gloam's body, he gradually began working the arm in a radial motion, guiding it back into the socket.

Throughout, Gloam could only clench his teeth and bear through the pain.

"I think that's done it," the Human said somewhat uncertainly. "How do you-"

<Fire!> Another command came through the telepathic link, causing them both to flinch as the thunderous cacophony of shots sounded in response a moment later.

"-you good?" The soldier asked, already reaching for his thunder-spear and preparing to return to his position.

Gloam gingerly reached for his own thunder-spear but came up short as fresh waves of pain radiated from his shoulder. "Damn it all!" He cursed bitterly, reaching for the thunder-spear for a second time but unable to support its weight.

"If you can't prepare your weapon, you need to retreat to the field hospital!" The Human had noticed his struggles and had continued to linger. "If we hurry, you might make it back for the fourth wave!"

<Elite forces have taken to the field.> The cold voice announced within Gloam's mind.

The abrupt shift in the Human's attitude made it clear that he had heard it as well.

<All forces! Fire at will! Prioritise elite targets!> The field commander ordered. The telepathic command carried a grim determination and echo of tense frustration.

"Elites?..." The Human stared out over the top of the trench, his body trembling with fear. "They aren't meant to show up until the tenth wave..."

Awkwardly climbing up onto the firing ledge, Gloam watched as soldiers released scattered volleys into the advancing horde. Feverishly reloading and firing again, and again, and again, in a desperate attempt to thin the ranks of the Beasts and Soulless as much as possible before the elites revealed themselves.

The Human who had assisted Gloam was no different. Working the lock and bolt mechanism of his standard-issue thunder-spear before selecting a target, firing, and repeating from the beginning again. All the while, he was feverishly narrating his actions in shallow whispers, as if reminding himself what he needed to do.

The smaller siege engines rumbled to life, shaking the ground and sending munitions howling through the air and into the horde. Delivering death seemingly at random, with little rhyme or reason.

The frantic assault had stalled the horde. A carpet of bodies slowed those who sought to take the place of the dead and dying—making them easy targets in turn.

However, the momentum would not last.

The siege engines would begin to fail first. Their components were gradually breaking down with each shot they fired, and their already somewhat lacking precision became increasingly unreliable. Worse still, the possibility of a catastrophic misfire would increase dramatically.

In the unlikely event that the siege engines remained mechanically sound, the crews loading, aiming and firing them would inevitably tire. Even with their absurdly muscular frames, the unrelenting pressure and exertion would eventually create a point of failure.

Gloam had witnessed as much in previous trials. First as an observer and later as a participant.

"FUCK!!" The Human cursed, the thunder-rifle in one hand and a broken piece of the loading mechanism in the other. "Dwergi, can you?-" He made as if to hand Gloam the broken mechanism and weapon, but stopped after laying eyes on Gloam's custom project.

Following the Human's gaze, Gloam shrugged off his bandolier and withdrew one of the rounds. "You reload it like this," ignoring the pain as best as he could manage, Gloam demonstrated the different loading mechanism, but didn't load the round into the barrel. "Try it," he offered the thunder-spear and ammunition to the Human.

"It caused a misfire?" The Human asked, going through the loading procedure with deliberate care. His hands were still trembling, but less than they had been only a few minutes before.

"Wasn't a misfire!" Gloam retorted defensively. "Just more powerful than I could handle..." A matter of semantics, so far as the senior artificers were concerned.

The Human stared at Gloam with a critical eye for several tense moments before coming to a silent decision and taking aim at the foundering Beasts beyond the trenches. "Fuck it," he muttered and pulled the trigger.

It gave Gloam no small measure of satisfaction to see the Human stagger as he had done.

The Human stared in stunned silence for several long moments, his mouth agape and eyes wide with shock. "Another..." He fumbled with the latch and withdrew the spent casing, "I need another!" The human demanded, his free hand extended and motioning for Gloam to hurry.

Only too happy to oblige, Gloam withdrew another round from his bandolier and pressed it into the Human's palm. Shrugging off the bandolier outright, he laid it out so the Human could reload independently.

The Human's grin only widened with each successive shot despite the obvious pain it was causing him. However, unlike Gloam, he appeared much more capable of absorbing the impact without risk of a greater injury.

A fact that Gloam took as a positive sign for the potential merits of his modified designs. Were it not for the first of the Angels cresting the horizon and the vivid reminders of being torn limb from bloody limb during the last trial, he may have allowed himself a few moments to celebrate.

Focus drawn toward the Angel, the Human’s breath caught in his throat, and he took a half step backwards. A pained and fearful look in his eyes. “No…” The Human hissed, clenching his jaw and determinedly stepping forward again. “Never again!” He growled savagely, raising the barrel of the thunder-spear and tracking its progress.

With only five rounds of ammunition remaining, it was unclear if the Human would accomplish anything beyond drawing the Angel's attention. Even so, Gloam made no attempts at dissuading him. Committed to seeing their impromptu partnership through to the end.

A thought that he had once believed would be impossible.

"Wait until the Angel draws closer!" Gloam insisted. "Make each shot count!"

The Human nodded in agreement, his mouth set in a grimace of fierce determination.

"FORWARD!!!" The Orc carrying the banner hollered, directing the armoured formation to advance toward the approaching Angel.

The Orcs released a unified shout and marched to their almost certain death.

Responding to the obvious provocation, the Angel's fiery wings of amber light flickered as it adjusted course. Its gleaming armour was nearly blinding as it warped and redirected the light around it.

Three more Angels appeared on the horizon, each racing toward the forward defences with deadly purpose. With a host of Daemons and Devils leading a renewed charge of the Beast and Soulless horde behind them.

No two Daemons were the same. However, no matter what twisted form they assumed, they demonstrated a profound resilience against physical harm. With the strongest of their kind capable of shrugging off direct hits from the smaller siege engines.

A fact Gloam had not appreciated until after participating in the Tyrant's trials.

The Daemons of Sanctuary were so rarely seen beyond its borders, and their King possessed of such refinement and control, that it had caused many to fail to recognise the danger lurking beneath. Which held doubly true for the Devil Queen.

Each possessed the raw power to face such a host without assistance and with minimal resistance. Existence's second only to the Tyrant in primaeval might.

A fact that placed the approaching war into alarming clarity within Gloam's mind.

That the Tyrant could possess such powerful lieutenants, whose very existence all but rendered Gloam and the enlisted soldiers' ongoing efforts near to complete irrelevance, and still have a need for them...It was deeply unsettling.

The trials had demonstrated their limitations in agonising detail. As Daemons, Angels and Devils tore through their defensive lines with near impunity. Over and over again. Casting aside whatever defence was mounted against them with near effortless ease.

"I HIT IT!" The Human cried excitedly, stiffly waving at the nearest of the Angels.

True enough, the Angel's gleaming breastplate bore a large indentation and puncture to the left of its sternum. With what looked like thin trails of amber-like ichor trailing from its centre.

The Angel was ignoring the Orcs and had now turned its full attention toward the Human.

"GET DOWN!!!" Gloam roared hoarsely, shoving the Human aside with all the force he could muster and using the momentum to fall into the safety of the trench.

Gloam's face had barely fallen to the packed earth when a blast of heated air swept over and through the trench. A cold numbness stole sensation from beneath his arse, and the acrid scent of roasted flesh assaulted his nose.

Rolling onto his back, Gloam could only stare in horror at the charred stumps that were all that remained of his upper thighs.

Too shocked to react, Gloam was only vaguely aware of someone pulling at his collar and the earth moving beneath him.

"My legs..." Gloam muttered dryly. "Where are my legs?..."

Another wave of heat washed over his face, vaporising the sweat and leaving his skin cracked and parched.

A host of screams rose in its wake, but sounded so incredibly distant.

The Angel appeared before him, its unnatural perfection marred by the insanity in its eyes, and its wings wreathed in flames of scintillating citrine and amber. "YOU DARE?!" The Angel shrieked, its voice piercing the fog in Gloam's mind like a finely honed knife and stabbing at his brain.

Liquid flames fell from the Angel's right hand, forming a seven-tailed whip.

"YOU! WILL! SUFFER!!!" The Angel howled, emphasising each word with a blinding flash and crack of its whip. Each strike instantly incinerated a Human soldier and dispersed their ashes as it moved on to the next in its path. Their armour spattered to the ground in pools of slagged steel.

A dry voice grunted something unintelligible in reply, and the hand on Gloam's collar fell away. 

For a moment, Gloam felt an unexpected pang of outrage. Fearing that the Human, his temporary companion and comrade in arms, had fled. Abandoning him in a desperate bid to preserve his own life. However, even in his current mental state, there was a part of Gloam that registered just how close to death he already was, and that abandoning him was the smart thing to do. That it was the only path forward that provided even the slightest chance at delivering another blow to the enemy before he and their comrades were all wiped out.

Accepting his fate, Gloam scrambled at the packed earth beneath him, desperately trying to gather a fistful of dirt to cast into the Angel's face. A gambit that stood little chance of succeeding, but might buy the surviving soldiers time to flee and take up a new position.

Seemingly beneath the Angel's notice, Gloam still had only gathered a pinch of fine ash when a Human soldier leapt over his recumbent form and charged the Angel. Holding the barrel of his thunder-spear and swinging the stock as an improvised club.

The Humans all wore nearly identical armour and uniforms, making them almost impossible to tell apart. However, the thunder-spear was unmistakable.

"No!..." Gloam rasped, his voice little more than a croaking whisper.

Why hadn't the Human fled? Regrouping with others of his kind and forming a resistance at a more secure position? The bloody fool was a former Imperial. Gloam had recognised as much the moment he had first spoken to him. He and all his kind had brutalised Gloam's people for generations. Why was he doing this?

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead. The previously empty sky was growing dark with foreboding storm clouds.

The Angel drew back its whip to strike the Human down. Nearly twenty feet of open trench between them all but sealed the Human's fate.

"DIE!" The Angel snarled, unbridled hatred flashing in its eyes as its whip raced toward its victim.

The amber flames struck the Human's right side, melting away his armour and incinerating his uniform. However, despite suffering horrific burns, the Human appeared otherwise intact. The momentum of his charge stalled for only a moment as the pain stole the breath from his lungs.

Surging forward, the Human's muscles bulged, ripping and tearing through his damaged uniform. Swelling and straining beneath his skin as his bones lengthened with each new step he took closer to the Angel.

Surprised by the Human's miraculous survival and dramatic transformation, the Angel was slow to react. Barely bringing its free arm to bear as the Human's improvised club came rushing toward its head.

The thunder-spear's barrel bent, and its stock shattered on impact. But against all expectations, so did the Angel's arm. Broken ichor-stained bones protruding through its mangled vambrace.

The Angel's cries of pain and shock were drowned out by the Human's guttural roar.

Discarding the destroyed weapon, the Human seized the Angel's injured arm with one hand and wrapped the now sausage-like fingers of his other hand around the Angel's throat.

Terror and outrage warred behind the Angel's eyes as its wings narrowed to angular scythe-like blades of blinding light. With the Human unwilling to release his hold, the Angel had no trouble in directing its weaponised appendages against the Human's near-naked body.

The Human's skin boiled and blistered, blackening and smouldering as the tips of the Angel's wings worked their way into his flesh. Their progress was agonisingly slow and torturous to witness. However, the mounting desperation in the Angel's resistance made it clear that it was not by its own design.

Nearly half again his original size, the Human's altered form provided a small measure of redundancy. With the engorged muscles and reinforced bones slowing the assault on his vital organs. However, it was only a matter of when, not if, the Angel could turn the tables and kill him.

"FOR THE TYRANT!!!" A half-naked Orc came sprinting over the top of the trench, his armour in tatters, body caked with blood and entrails spilling from his abdomen. Mid-leap and with his one remaining arm, the Orc drove the base of the Tyrant's banner through the space under the Angel's raised arm.

A savage victorious smile on his lips, the Orc's momentum broke the banner's shaft, leaving at least a foot of the banner's length inside of the Angel's chest as the Orc collapsed to the ground.

Dead perhaps before he even hit the ground, the Orc's body began collapsing into mana particles. Leaving nothing but the ragged remnants of his armour and the broken shaft of the banner behind. But despite the danger, Gloam found it odd that the banner had landed in such a way as to remain upright, rather than lie upon the ground.

The Angel's wings flickered, shrinking and losing their intensity with each passing second. Likewise, its struggles became increasingly feeble. Barely capable of mustering the strength to paw at the Human's arm as the life drained from its eyes, and its ichorous blood spilled over the ground.

Paralysing the Angel with a crude jerk of its neck, the Human dropped its twitching form and all but collapsed against the wall of the trench. The blackened hole in the left side of his chest and the trails of smoke accompanying his ragged gasps were a testament to how close the battle had truly been.

Free of his helmet, the Human's dark black hair spilled over his neck and clung wetly to his brow. Soaked with the sweat that had begun in earnest in the wake of the Angel's defeat. Pale, even beyond the fairness of his skin, the Human offered Gloam a weak smile. His dark hazel eyes grew dim as each breath grew shallower than the one preceding it.

"We...did...it..." The Human wheezed, turning his head with great effort to look at the dying Angel.

With great effort, Gloam clawed closer and positioned himself against the opposite wall of the trench. The shock had passed, and intense pain from his melted stumps was threatening to overwhelm him. But Gloam bore through it with everything he had, determined to see things through to the end. "We, huff, did, huff," he agreed breathlessly, grinning like an idiot despite the pain. "An-Angel..." Gloam cackled manically.

The impossibility and absurdity of their accomplishment beggared belief, and he wasn't entirely convinced he wasn't hallucinating the whole thing. Indulging a Summons sickness delirium in one of the Tyrant's newly constructed prisons for the insane.

Sensing the end, the animating force supporting his Summoned form was coming to an end. Gloam felt a fresh rush of satisfaction as he watched the Angel disintegrate into nothingness. The broken section of the banner in the dirt serving as the only sign of their desperate struggle.

Zod and Yor designing a Dungeon

Another commissioned piece showing Daemons collaborating behind the scenes.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 88 - Shock and Awe - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 88 - Shock and Awe - Part Two

Still staring at the strange symbols, Orion remained keenly aware that the creature’s gaze remained firmly fixed upon him in turn. A fact that he found profoundly unsettling.

“You musst choosse...” The creature hissed with a hint of irritation, signalling its mounting impatience.

“I...I don’t understand what it says...” Orion admitted nervously.

“You undersstand enough...” The creature’s irritation faded, amusement taking its place. “I wonder if otherss would hessitate...Forfeiting ssuch power...Wallowing in weakness!...”

The creature’s words struck Orion with a near physical force, driving back the thoughts that had begun to stir due to his inaction and indecision.

“Change comess for you!... For your people!...Their ssurvival...Their future!...Dependss upon thiss moment!...” The creature pressed, emphasising each statement with a wet crunch and the death cries of dying Beasts below them.

“Erastus has not failed us-” Orion insisted, but fell silent as the tree trunk groaned with distress.

“Yet you doubt him!...” The creature accused with an air of absolute certainty.

Orion made it seem as if he wanted to rebuke the accusation, only to find that he could not.

“Erasstuss dessiress control...” The creature commented disdainfully. “Even at the cosst of your livess...” The creature leaned in close once more, its mouth only a fraction of an inch from his right ear. “You know thiss...Why continue the lie?...”

Orion tried to speak, struggling to clear his throat and speak out in defence of his chieftain’s honour.

“Erasstuss ssent you to die...” The creature stated coldly, as if it were pronouncing the death sentence and intending to carry it out itself.

All the same, the creature’s words had struck a chord in him, and Orion realised that the creature had spoken the truth.

While Orion had never been openly critical of Erastus’ leadership, nor that of the late chieftain, he had bad relations with several members of the clan who had the chieftain’s ear.

Was that enough for Erastus to seek his death?

It took Orion only a handful of seconds to come to terms with his wilful ignorance and naivety. 

Of course, it was enough.

Competing for the hand of the woman that was now his mate, had earned Orion a considerable degree of enmity from his rivals at the time. Even after so much time had passed, that enmity had endured. Festering and growing just shy of outright hostility.

While Orion had never been able to provide conclusive evidence of foul play, he was convinced that there had been several attempts on his life already. Instances where other hunting teams had seemingly accidentally led rampaging packs of Razormaws through the designated hunting zone of his team and the undeclared traps that had appeared on the trails.

Blame had been laid at the feet of inexperienced youths. Conveniently ignoring the fact that their escape from the Beasts was too perfectly timed to be a coincidence and the craftsmanship of the traps requiring the expertise of experienced hands...

“I...” Orion felt his misgivings melt away, replaced by a cold determination to protect his mate and their children. “I...accept this burden...for my people...and...and for my family!”

The darkness and strange symbols disappeared, and in their place Orion was gripped by an intense and dizzying wave of weakness and nausea. However, through it all, he remained keenly aware of the creature-SENN-

Orion hissed in pain as a thought not his own imposed itself within his mind.

<Misstresss...Majessty...Patron...NEVER creature!...> The cr-SENN hissed, her words echoing through his mind as she bared her fangs in warning. <Thiss iss your firsst, and final, warning...>Her unnaturally vibrant blue eyes blazed with an intense but restrained fury, promising pain should he test her in any capacity or measure.

“I...understand...” Orion muttered breathlessly.

Senn retreated a short distance and nodded. <Good...>

The certainty of purpose that had filled Orion only moments earlier was replaced by doubt.

<Then it iss time...Prove yoursself...Witness my boonss...> Senn pointed toward the ground and the broken mangled remains of the Beasts below them. <Go...>

A string of symbols briefly flickered before Orion’s eyes and then disappeared.

<Prove yoursself...> Senn repeated, pointing more insistently.

A wounded Howler was dragging itself toward the base of the tree, its powerful forelimbs and claws ripping at the grass and earth with savage fury.

Gripping his spear tight, Orion took a deep calming breath and forced his mind into a state of calm. It was time to hunt.

Stepping off the branch, Orion aimed the tip of his spear and tightened his grip in anticipation of the impact.

The Howler looked up just in time to witness the spearhead bore through its right eye socket and into its brain, killing it almost instantly.

With his spear now firmly planted into the ground, Orion was briefly blinded by more of the strange symbols. As he made to draw his backup knife, he paused.

The nails on his hands had thickened and grown into sharp-edged claws. Furthermore, vibrant blue scaly skin now covered his fingers and ran halfway up his arms.

A throaty roar from the underbrush to his right immediately drew Orion back to his senses.

A small horde of Soulless came charging through the bushes. Upon spotting Orion, they changed course, raising their crude bone axes, clubs and knives in anticipation of a speedy kill.

Suppressing his fear, Orion took a fresh breath and widened his stance, lowering himself closer to the ground and hurling his backup knife all in a single fluid motion.

His knife struck the lead Soulless in the throat, causing it to stumble and slow the other Soulless coming up behind.

Seizing the initiative, Orion charged, battering his horns into the chest of another Soulless. The sensation of the Soulless’ ribs shattering passed through his spine before being absorbed by the supporting muscles in his neck and shoulders.

Muscles pumping hard, Orion continued forward, driving the breathless Soulless’ back several steps before their momentum was abruptly terminated by colliding with the trunk of a nearby tree.

The wounded Soulless's chest collapsed, its lungs shredded and spinal vertebrae pulverised by the force of the impact.

The remaining Soulless were slow to react, but Orion could see one of the closest was already bearing down on him. Already committed to his charge, he knew he didn’t have enough time to avoid what was coming. All he could do was do his best to dodge in an attempt to mitigate the blow.

Orion threw his weight to his right, preparing to roll and build fresh momentum to buy distance between himself and the enemy.

Just as he had predicted, Orion was not fast enough to avoid the Soulless’ attack. The head of its spear struck his chest hard throwing Orion off balance, compromising his retreat and lessening the distance he had hoped to gain by a considerable margin.

Before he could right himself, a throwing axe smacked into Orion’s left thigh, delivering a glancing blow before flying off into the underbrush.

Hissing in pain, resisted the urge to look away from the enemy and assess his injuries. There would be time enough for that later, assuming he was alive to do so.

Embracing the pain, Orion performed a countercharge at the last possible moment, catching the closest Soulless by the throat with his right hand and cracking its head into the face of the Soulless coming up behind it.

Pivoting hard to avoid becoming impaled upon a spear, Orion attempted to throw the Soulless and have it take his place. Only to have the throat of the captive Soulless part from its body before sailing bloodily past his intended target.

Thrown off balance, Orion grunted in pain as a club battered his right shoulder blade.

Before Orion could find his footing, a flurry of blows came in rapid succession, driving him to his knees as he attempted to shield his vital organs from the onslaught.

Chin pressed hard against his chest to protect his throat, Orion discovered a patch of thick blue scales had appeared where the spear had struck him only moments earlier. Looking at his thigh, he was shocked to see scales beneath the fur.

<I grant you thiss Boon...Prove you are worthy of it...> Senn hissed within his mind.

Orion abruptly became aware of several things all at once.

First and foremost, the sensation of freshly spilled blood running down his arms and across his back. Only, that should have been impossible, given both his arms were preoccupied with shielding his chest.

Second, was the feral cries of the Soulless.

Third, was the unexpected reprieve that allowed Orion the opportunity he needed to break free of the encirclement and face down his enemies.

Only to lose as many seconds upon noticing the gore-drenched claws reaching around his torso.

Concerned that one of the Soulless had outflanked him again, Orion fled, pivoting several times to rapidly change course in an attempt to place distance between himself and the enemy. However, for all his speed and agility, his pursuer remained on his tail, claws grasping and fumbling mere inches from his chest and exposed abdomen.

Orion’s luck turned from bad to worse as a Gorehowler lept at him from its hiding place amidst the branches of a nearby tree.

Too late to dodge, Orion braced himself against the pain that was soon to follow, pulling his arms in tight to protect his stomach from the Gorehowler’s tusks and vicious hind claws. However, the pain didn’t come.

His pursuer surged forward, throwing Orion off balance as it no doubt bodily tackled him from behind. Only, instead of anchoring its claws into Orion’s chest or throat, they seized the Gorehowler’s skull, arresting its descent and forward momentum and for reasons Orion didn’t understand, drawing him back and knocking him to the ground.

For a moment, the Gorehowler stared down at Orion, pain and confusion flashing in its eyes as if it was trying to comprehend the chain of events that had caused its ambush to fail. Then, true to its namesake, it released an ear-bleeding howl, the claws anchored in its skull ripping its head apart and spattering Orion with gore.

In an attempt to lose his pursuer, Orion rolled hard to the side. However, it proved ineffective. His pursuer had recognised his intentions and acted just as quickly, wrapping its bloody arms around him and pinning Orion’s arms against his chest.

Panicking, Orion’s confusion grew when his pursuer’s arms released him a moment later without any sign to explain why.

Glancing over his right shoulder, Orion was momentarily stunned into inaction upon discovering a second muscled shoulder extending from behind and below the first. A heavily muscled and all too familiar-looking arm continued from the shoulder, leading to a gore-spattered forearm and claw.

Several increasingly intense moments passed before Orion was able to overcome his shock and acknowledge that the arms he had thought belonged to an unseen pursuer, were, in fact, his own.

The surviving Soulless had rallied. Their numbers bolstered by a wave of new arrivals.

Already out of his depth with those that had come before, Orion prepared to retreat deeper into the forest. However, the collective focus of the Soulless horde's attention abruptly shifted as the ground began to shiver and shake underfoot.

Huge hulking shapes were approaching in the distance, and for a moment, Orion feared the Humans’ brutes had returned. However, his fears were quickly proven unfounded as the newcomers drew closer and revealed themselves to be significantly larger and more intimidating in almost every respect.

An irrational and unexplainable sense of kinship bubbled to the surface within his mind. Convincing Orion that whoever or whatever the newcomers were, they were first and foremost his allies and intended him no harm.

This irrational camaraderie was put to the test when the largest of the hulks casually backhanded a tree in its path, splintering its trunk and sending the remainder crashing into an approaching Beast, killing the Beast on impact.

Without the tree obstructing his view, Orion was privy to his first clear look at one of his approaching allies.

Easily twice the height of the tallest human Orion had ever seen, the newcomer wore a shell of stone plates that covered most of its body, leaving only its face exposed. The features of its face were masculine and blunt, leading Orion to conclude that the newcomer was very likely a male of its Species.

The other newcomers were slightly smaller but wore the same armour. Armed with spiked metal clubs and thick cleavers, they hacked and bashed at anything that came within reach. The Beasts and Soulless that survived the first strike were left crippled and mangled to the point that they would have begged for death if they had been given time to do so. Unable to retreat before being trampled and crushed under the massive bulk of the hulks’ feet.

<Ogress...> Senn corrected in a warning tone. <Little brotherss casst in the Tyrantss image...> A dark silhouette was impressed into his mind, casting a shadow behind the approaching Ogres. A vision that beggared belief.

Nearly twice the size of the largest of the Ogres, the shadow of the Tyrant moved with an almost unnatural grace, all the while radiating an aura that demanded immediate and unconditional obedience.

The shadow faded and Orion was given control over his senses once more.

<Your masster...> Senn hissed with near breathless devotion. <Your ruler...> Her disembodied voice took on a disconcerting, almost unhinged, intensity. <Your SSAVIOUR.>

The largest of the Ogres approached Orion directly while the move behind him fanned out into the woods in a crude screening formation. Intercepting the Beast and Soulless’ with brutal sweeping strikes and crushing blows.

There was no art and precious little skill in their approach, relying on brute strength and their massive bulk to win out over their smaller foes. Whether this behaviour was a reflection of their lack of training, or from underestimating the enemy, remained unclear.

“You!” The largest Ogre had closed the distance between them and now towered over Orion, casting him in shadow. “Wha?” The Ogre paused, blinking with an almost comically exaggerated look of confusion on his face as he made a show of looking around about himself.

It took Orion a few moments to realise he was what the Ogre was looking for and that the Ogre wasn’t putting on an act. Concealed as he was by the Ogre’s prodigious armoured belly.

Orion took several steps backward and loudly cleared his throat to draw the Ogre’s attention.

“Huh?! Oh! There you is!” The Ogre released a deep sigh as his small beady eyes peered over his gut and down at Orion. “Me, Mugdug!” He slapped his chest several times to belabour the point, perhaps thinking that Orion might have trouble understanding him. “You is?” The Ogre came just shy of jabbing a meaty finger into Orion’s face. He awkwardly settled into a low squat, bringing them closer to eye level with one another.

“O-Orion...” Orion replied awkwardly, stammering slightly as he retreated a few steps to avoid being poked. 

The Ogre’s face scrunched up in intense concentration, “Oh-Oh-Ryan?” He repeated, his heavy brow wrinkling as he considered the name.

“My name is, Orion,” Orion clarified, making sure not to stutter, lest he confuse the Ogre further.

“Oh-Ryan...Ore-Iron...Orrr-ion, Orion!” After several attempts and finally pronouncing the name correctly, the Mugdug’s face lit up with joy. “Orion!” He repeated joyfully, “You is, Orion!” The Ogre looked to the other Ogres and waved at Orion, “This Orion!” He called out happily with a big grin plastered on his face.

A chorus of greetings rumbled from the surrounding forest as the Ogres each introduced themselves and attempted to pronounce his name, failing just as Mugdug had done and repeating the effort until they got it right.

All the while, the Ogres all but ignored the Soulless and Beasts that attacked them. Not that they appeared to suffer any injuries because of the distraction. Their armour proved nigh impregnable, shrugging off claws, teeth and weapons without so much as leaving a scratch upon it.

Only one Ogre was injured, receiving light scratches to his face and the dome of his bald head when a Leaping Shadow dropped on top of him from a nearby tree. The Leaping Shadow had died horribly only moments later.

Despite sharing a similar appearance to the humans, this Ogre had shown that they were something else entirely. Something far more savage.

With the Leaping Shadow anchored to his face, the Ogre simply slapped at it with his free hand, crushing its spine and likely paralysing it. However, instead of pulling his hand away and allowing the Beast to fall away and leaving it for dead, the Ogre had increased the pressure. Pushing the crippled Leaping Shadow into his waiting jaws, shearing through its flesh and crushing its bones before swallowing it in one gulp.

Ugdug rested a massive hand on Orion’s shoulder, “Orion follow Ugdug!” He stated self-assuredly and waved toward the direction of the human village with his free hand. “Big Sarge, want talk. We go now.” Taking Orion’s compliance for granted, the Ogre dragged as much as guided him toward the human village.

Orion would have put up a stronger resistance, were it not for his increasingly intense curiosity and the safety the Ogres’ presence and numbers provided.

Searching for signs of Senn, Orion was somewhat unnerved to find that she was gone. He wasn’t certain when exactly she had left, but he had the uncomfortable feeling that she was capable of watching him from wherever she had gone.

Muted hissing laughter in the back of Orion’s mind served as confirmation, of a kind.

If he closed his eyes and concentrated, Orion could see Senn’s bright blue eyes staring back at him with an unsettling intensity.

The Ogres' foray into the forest had left a trail of devastation in their wake. Broken and brutalised corpses became increasingly frequent as they drew closer to the human village, and more corpses were added to their ranks as Soulless and Beasts harried their retreat.

Crossing from the shadows of the forest and into the deforested lands that surrounded the human village, Orion was momentarily aback upon realising the village was gone.

Or rather, a colossal stone wall and fortress had taken its place.

On its own, the change would have been cause enough for alarm. However, it was the occupants of the fortress that filled Orion with dread and anger in equal measure.

Humans...

There were hundreds of them, perhaps even thousands. Swarming over the walls and loosing arrows into the Beasts launching suicidal charges across the open ground.

Hastily checking the Ogres for signs of the collars the humans had used to control the brutes he had encountered earlier, Orion only felt marginally better when he failed to find any signs of them.

Ugdug had noticed Orion’s distress and raised one meaty arm into the air, “Stop!”

Given their immense bulk, the Ogres took a few moments to disperse their built-up momentum.

“Orion scared?” Ugdug asked in the tone one would use to address a child. However, there appeared to be no signs of malice or disrespect behind it.

“Concerned...” Orion corrected, fighting hard to keep himself from panicking.

Ugdug frowned, his eyes growing unfocused and his brow wrinkling into deeply set furrows.

After a moment, Orion realised the poor brute hadn’t understood him. “The humans...” Orion motioned toward the wall and fortress ahead of them. “They worry me...”

Ugdug’s eyes came back into focus and the wrinkles grew less severe but did not disappear entirely. “Why?” He scratched at his bald head and considered the distant humans with unabashed curiosity.

“They betrayed us and attacked my people!” Orion growled bitterly.

“Oh...” Ugdug shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, causing his armour to clatter and scrape noisily. “Orion know Human tribe?” He asked after several long moments of deep contemplation.

It took Orion just as long to determine what the Ogre had said. “They have more than one tribe?” Orion asked warily. He had never really thought about it, but it made sense when compared to what he had learned about humans over the years.

Ugdug nodded sagely. “Many many tribes,” he replied and began a silent tally on his large fingers. “Asrus, Sem-men-novs and Not-Slaves, with us. Serve Tyrant-” Ugdug gulped dryly and nervously eyed the sky before pressing on. “Ugdug no remember this-” He stated in a thoroughly dismissive tone and waved at the surrounding area. “This tribe is prisoners. This tribe bad, no follow Tyrant’s rules...” Ugdug nervously looked to the sky again and was joined in the strange activity by the nearest Ogres that had overheard their conversation.

“You took them all prisoner?!” Orion demanded incredulously.

Ugdug shook his head. “No. Many many Humans outside. Big big village,” he threw his arms wide as a scale of reference, but with nothing for a direct comparison it was largely a wasted gesture.

Looking back toward the humans, Orion slowly recognised a sense of companionship toward them that was difficult to justify. It felt similar to the feelings he had toward members of his clan, except instead of a feeling in his heart, it was a persistent thought in his mind.

The more Orion focused on these thoughts, the more he came to realise that they were not his own. They didn’t originate within his mind, but somehow came from without in a similar means to the Bond Orion shared with his Mate.

<The kinsship you feel iss real...> Senn hissed with intense fervour. <All are equal...In hiss sshadow!...> 

An image of the Tyrant was imprinted into his mind. Armoured just as the Ogres were, the Tyrant was impossibly large but bore closer proportions to the humans and their brutes. With the peripheral vision the imprinted thought allowed, Orion discovered that he was not alone. He stood upon an open field as just one amongst uncountable others.

As the memory faded, Orion was left keenly aware that while many of those he had seen were human, there were also entire clans of Species he had never known existed.

After worrying over the intrusive thoughts a short while longer, Orion relented and decided that the Bond had protected him thus far with the Ogres, so he would continue to trust it a little longer. If the humans were planning some sort of ambush or were hostile, he would just have to do his best to escape.

Continuing their approach, Orion was somewhat relieved, and more than a little surprised when the bowmen atop the walls shifted their focus. However, it was not the ambush he had expected. Instead, the bowmen now targeted the Beasts and Soulless on the wings of the Ogres’ flanks.

Which was just as well. Moving into the open had made them a far more tantalising target for the Beasts and Soulless than the warriors on the sheer stone walls, and while none had managed to make it past the Ogres so far, his escort was coming under increasing pressure.

Even with the assistance of the bowmen, the Ogres had been forced to change tactics. Forgoing personal defence entirely, the Ogres battered and bludgeoned with reckless abandon, relying on their size and armour to see them through the ever-growing horde.

Without weapons to spare, and unable to engage in the melee without risking injury from the wide swings of the Ogres, Orion could only match the pace set by the Ogres leader and keep an eye out in case something slipped past the escort.

Drawing closer to the walls, Orion began to notice other Species amongst the human bowmen. He also realised that the keen vision he had developed over many cycles of hunting in the wilds, had deteriorated to a significant degree, which had caused him to overlook them in the first place.

Initially somewhat distressed by this discovery, Orion had to remind himself that there was a price for the power he had gained. He was less agile than before, but his skirmish against the Soulless had shown Orion that he was considerably stronger and more durable as well. A welcome trade in the circumstances he had found himself in at the time. However, only time would tell if the exchange was worthwhile in the long term.

A huge gate made of overlapping metal with fist-sized spaces between them was slowly sunk into the ground to allow their entry.

The team of bowmen stationed behind the gate had to press themselves to either side of the short passage beneath the wall to allow the Ogres to pass them by without risk of being knocked over.

Expecting animosity from the humans, Orion was surprised when those he made eye contact with seemed to make a point of smiling in a welcoming manner and knocking the brow of their metal helmets in greeting. They appeared genuinely glad for his presence amongst them.

On guard against a second betrayal, Orion was almost disappointed when the humans within the space beyond the wall paid him the same attention as those he encountered before. Making a show of being friendly before returning to their other duties.

The non-humans among them were more reserved. Demonstrating a wary curiosity and speaking quietly to others of their own kind.

Suspecting they were under the humans’ control, Orion failed to find signs of the metal and leather collars and had to accept that their reactions were both genuine and justified. Given he was staring back at them in much the same manner.

Orion had visited the old human village several times in the past and now found it strange that the buildings could be destroyed and replaced so quickly. The imposing stone fortress was particularly baffling, appearing to be carved from a singularly large piece of stone. However, there were no chisel marks or signs that it had been moved from elsewhere. As if both it and the accompanying walls, had simply sprung from the earth fully formed and ready to fulfil their purpose.

Orion didn’t have to wait long to find out how.

A stone tower had begun growing from the ground and merging with the wall a short distance from where Orion was standing. At its base was a group of small, stocky, scruffy-bearded males with pale skin and large dark eyes. Grunting and huffing as if under immense strain, the short males slowly raised their arms, their efforts matching the slow ascent of the stone tower and radiating a strange yet all too familiar energy.

It was the same energy the clan hunters and warriors used to enhance their abilities and perform supernatural feats of strength, agility and marksmanship.

Directing his focus inward, Orion was shocked to find that the small well of energy he had diligently worked at filling since early childhood, had grown by several orders of magnitude. The well was more akin to a lake and was being fed by a small stream.

Following the stream to its source, Orion was stunned to discover a body of energy so massive that it defied his ability to fully comprehend its true depths. Despite this shortcoming, he had no issues identifying who the tremendous source of energy belonged to.

Hissing laughter echoed in the corners of his mind. <You lay eyess on a lake...for the firsst time...and lose your courage...-> 

A will not his own seized control of Orion’s senses and dragged them further afield. A second, considerably larger body of energy came and went, lingering only long enough so Orion was made aware of its relative size.  

Then, there was nothing.

<Yet you never thought to conssider the ssky above...> There was more mocking laughter and Orion’s awareness was compelled outward, to ‘look up’.

The metaphorical sky was cast in darkness, storm clouds swelling and rolling across the endless expanse. Within their depths, a massive serpentine Beast surged this way and that, every flick of its tail generating a deafening boom of thunder.

<We are but children...In hiss sshadow...> Senn hissed fervently.

The clouds had gathered into the simulacra of the Tyrant’s face. His eyes stared down at Orion as if he were nothing more than a child playing at being a hunter or warrior for the clan. However, there were traces of arrogance or derision in the Tyrant’s countenance, only a grim sense of responsibility.

As Orion considered the Tyrant’s visage, Senn’s words resonated within him, taking on new meaning.

As the scene faded, Orion was startled to find he was still staring at the Tyrant's face.

A stone statue of the Tyrant’s likeness stood before the large doors to the fortress, forcing anyone who approached to pass beneath his watchful gaze.

Urging Orion forward and toward the fortress, the Ogres fell eerily silent, their eyes firmly fixed on the ground with nervous expressions on their faces, like guilty children afraid to draw the attention and ire of their parents for their misdeeds.

Curiously, the Ogres weren’t the only ones that behaved differently around the statue. While the humans appeared capable of passing the statue by without issue, the other Species in their midst exhibited a whole range of reactions. From fervent worship and gratitude to grudging respect, and everything in between.

The brutes especially were prone to overt demonstrations of respect, stoically saluting the statue by slamming their fists against their chests with pride fiercely burning in their eyes.

Upon reaching the entrance to the fortress, the other Ogres awkwardly retreated past the statue and all but fled toward the gate. Leaving Orion alone with Ugdug.

“Is he truly so terrifying?” Orion muttered under his breath. Confused by the inconsistent range of reactions and impressions he had witnessed thus far.

Ugdug stopped abruptly and stared at Orion in horror. He furtively glanced back toward the statue. More specifically, its legs, since the rest was no longer visible. “Orion, no say that!” Ugdug warned sternly. “Tyrant give food, give home! Tyrant no scary!” He wagged his finger disapprovingly in Orion’s face for good measure.

“I don’t understand...” Orion admited, trying and failing to suppress his frustration. “You won’t even look at a simple statue.”

Ugdug glanced at the statue again before returning his gaze to Orion. “No same...” He insisted somewhat weakly.

“Help me understand then,” Orion pressed, wanting the matter settled.

“They don’t want to accidentally issue a challenge,” a male human warrior with dark hair interjected, conversationally.

“Big Sarge!” Ugdug suddenly straightened his back and slammed his fist against his chest.

“At ease, Sargeant,” the human male replied evenly, unperturbed by the Ogre’s intensity or intense volume of his voice. “Lieutenant Higgs,” he stated warmly, perhaps assuming Orion was interested in learning his name. “Vice-Commander of the hundred and fourth United Expeditionary Forces.

“Orion...” Orion replied dryly.

The corner of Higgs's mouth twisted into a wry smile. “I have been apprised of the Legossians’ activities and cannot fault you for doubting our intentions.”

Orion scowled, unwilling to trust the human at his word.

“I can only hope that our actions will demonstrate what makes us different to the humans you have known up until now,” Higgs continued in a placating tone. “You can be certain that the Slavers will face a reckoning for what they have done. Once the integration is complete, they will face Spymaster’s tender mercies...” He shivered and then tried to cover the act by making a show of clearing his throat.

“When will you leave our lands?” Orion asked bluntly, scanning the human’s face intently in anticipation of the deception he knew would follow.

“The hundred and fourth will move on in the late evening on the morrow...” Higgs's brow furrowed sternly and he considered Orion for a moment. “However, that isn’t what you wanted to know. Or rather, if you understood our primary objective, you might have asked a slightly different question. While we may be leaving, it is important that you, and your people, understand the change that is coming. When this battle is over, this land will belong to the Tyrant-”

Orion scowled and snorted in anger. “This land is not yours to take!”

Higgs sighed and slowly shook his head. “You don’t understand...The magic that binds this land to the Labyrinth and the world beyond, is governed by rules beyond our understanding. This battle is more than just mindless bloodshed. It is a grand ritual. A ritual that wrests control of the land away from the Labyrinth and allows the Tyrant to move it beyond the reach of the Slavers and the petty kingdoms that would seize this land for its natural resources...”

Ugdug nodded emphatically in open support. “Tyrant protects!” He rumbled, narrowly avoiding Orion’s horns as he slammed his fist against his chest.

“The Tyrant protects,” Higgs repeated, if somewhat more eloquently while snapping a firm chest strike of his own.

“And if we refuse?” Orion regretted his words the moment they left his mouth.

Ugdug’s demeanour changed almost instantly, growing deathly serious. “Obey Tyrant, or...or?” The Ogre’s ominous aura faded with his lost momentum.

“Variant communities, such as yours, are given two choices,” Higgs interjected calmly with an air of warning in his tone. “Integration, or exile-”

“EXILE!” Ugdug barked with a dopey grin, nodding contentedly to himself all the while.

“Exile-” Higgs eyed the excitable Ogre warily, perhaps expecting a second outburst. “-would leave your people more or less as they are now. Left utterly alone to live your lives within the confines of this territory. I have a vested interest in the alternative, but I would regret not urging you and your people to seriously consider the alternative. Integration.”

Orion continued to scowl but said nothing. To his knowledge, the human had not lied to him so far, and it cost him nothing to hear him out. Besides, the decision was not his to make anyway.

“I know it might be difficult to believe, especially coming from a Human. However, it was not too long ago that we were in a similar position to what you are now,” Higgs stated with absolute conviction. “Two of our rivals joined forces to steal our land and Enslave the survivors. We were outmatched and our defeat appeared inevitable...” He cringed and looked away for a moment, his eyes burning with shame and anger. “We were prepared to go down fighting, to make the enemy pay dearly for every inch of ground they intended to take from us. Many brave men and women died...It was only a matter of time before we would join them, or worse...”

Orion wanted to remain sceptical, but the pain in Higgs' voice made it increasingly difficult.

“I was posted at Laine when the orders came to hold the city...Morale had already gone to hell and you could feel the despair and desperation that had taken hold of the city growing worse by the hour...” Higgs paused and took a few moments to recentre himself, taking several deep calming breaths. “Imagine our shock when a monster came to our aid. From what is known, the Tyrant had every reason to just sit back and watch us destroy each other. We had shown him our worst, and our enemies had gone further still...Between you and me, I think that was a part of it. The reason he intervened, took control...To put an end to the senseless killing and violence...To...To bring order...”

Ugdug nodded in agreement but remained silent.

“Heh, you don’t believe me,” Higgs observed wryly without judgment. “Seek out the Orcs serving on the wall. Some of them were there and were amongst the first the Tyrant liberated during the siege of the city.”

“I will do that...” Orion replied warily. As much to buy time to consider what he had learned, as to observe the humans from within their encampment. If there was an elaborate deception at work, he was confident that of the hundreds of humans in the vicinity, one of them was about to slip up sooner or later and expose them all.

Allowing Ugdug to lead him out of the fortress, Orion was surprised to find one of his clansmen waiting for him beneath the statue of the Tyrant. Glad to find he was not alone while surrounded by potential enemies, Orion took on a burst of speed. However, as he drew closer, Orion realised that he had made a mistake.

While he was similar enough to pass for one of his clansmen at a distance, the stranger had several key features that set him apart. These differences only became more obvious as the distance between them lessened.

“Hello, cousin,” the stranger waved his hand in greeting with a smile on his all-too-human face. “You perhaps thought me to be a blood relation?” The stranger guessed with a shrewd grin while fondling his shaggy beard. “Alas I am not,” he shrugged apologetically. “Kin we may be, however, it is of a most distant kind.”

Orion made no effort to hide his disappointment and prepared to leave.

“Don’t be so hasty, cousin!” The stranger raised his furless arms and moved to block Orion’s path. “We have not even had the opportunity to introduce ourselves!”

“Ugdug!” Ugdug rumbled and pointed at himself.

“Yes, I know, Ugdug, we have been introduced several times,” the stranger commented with an amused grin.

Ugdug smiled and nodded happily before pointing to Orion. “This, Orion,” he declared proudly.

“Yes yes, thank you Ugdug,” the stranger replied somewhat condescending.

If Ugdug noticed, he made no signs of it.

“Orion, is it? You may call me, Titus,” he bowed with a fluid seemingly effortless grace, demonstrating a flexibility and range of motion in his legs that generated a pang of jealousy in Orion’s chest. The glint in his eye made it clear that it had not escaped Titus’ notice either. “Simply a matter of practice, cousin. I have no doubt you could accomplish similar acts of dexterity if you put your mind to it.”

Orion grunted noncommittally and made as if to leave again.

“I was there, you know?” Titus stated coldly, the abrupt shift in his tone forestalling Orion’s departure. “Naked, starving, and all but stripped of the very will to continue living...” He stared at Orion with an intense, almost hateful, jealousy. “I was their Slave for more than a decade! Do you even know how long that is?! An eternity to dwell upon everything that was taken from me! An eternity of torture as they took everything I had left!...” Tears welled in Titus’ eyes, but his anger remained. “Do you know what it is like KNOWING you are the last of your people?! No! You don’t! Because HE-” Titus pointed animatedly at the statue of the Tyrant, “-has spared you from that nightmare! MY nightmare!”

“Tyrant protects...” Ugdug mumbled, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other, seemingly intimidated by Titus’ intense outburst.

Titus stared up at the ogre for several moments before seeming to come back to his senses. Anger giving way to shame and regret. “That he does, Ugdug...” He agreed quietly before shifting his attention back to Orion, the embers of his anger still flickering in the depths of his eyes. “I need you to understand, that my story is far from unique, and it is not restricted to our kind...Slavers will shackle a human just as readily as any monster-” He released a pained bark of laughter and shook his head, “They have Enslaved more of their own kind than all of our ancestors combined!”

“Which is why it makes no sense that you would trust them!” Orion snarled. “You have only convinced me that deception and torture are par of their very nature!”

“They are no different from us,” Titus replied coldly. “The evil that lurks within their hearts beats just as strongly within your chest as mine. So does their capacity for compassion...The Tyrant has shown me this, a world where what is good and innocent can thrive.-”

“Which he controls...” Orion interjected, making no effort to hide his suspicion and distrust.

“He does...” Titus admitted somewhat grudgingly.

“Then what will stop him from turning on us like they did?!” Orion snapped.

Almost immediately, Orion became aware of the deadly silence building beside him.

Ugdug had grown deathly still, his small beady eyes boring into Orion’s soul with a withering gaze. “No. Say. That,” the Ogre warned, his voice barely above a whisper. A deeply unsettling change from the almost childlike simplicity he had demonstrated until this moment. Bloody tears began welling in the corners of his eyes and running down his eyes.

“Ugdug! He didn’t mean it!” Titus leapt forward and seized the Ogre’s hand, tugging on his arm to draw his attention. “He doesn’t know any better!”

Ugdug scowled, his gaze unwavering.

Titus released Ugdug and rounded on Orion instead, “Take it back! You’re going to kill him!”

“I did nothing to him!” Orion barked defensively. Confused by how Titus could somehow blame him despite the Ogre’s obviously hostile intentions.

<More than wordss bind uss...> Senn hissed in the recesses of his mind. <Pactss and Oathss...The foundation for thosse who cannot trusst...An aegiss to the weak...A sswift death to thosse who would break them...> There was a weighty pause as knowledge of the Oaths were imprinted into his mind.

Recognising the weight of his actions, Orion felt profoundly troubled. “I...I take it back...I didn’t mean what I said...” He grunted. Despite his misgivings regarding the Tyrant’s present and potential future intentions, Orion was not willing to have the Ogre’s blood on his hands. “I...I didn’t mean it...” 

Ugdug had been nothing but friendly up until now, a fact which made swallowing his pride marginally more bearable. However, the silent danger presented by the Oaths was immensely unsettling and only served to fuel his doubts regarding the Tyrant’s intentions. There was so much he didn’t know, and far too much at stake for his people to justify taking such risks.

Of course, that was assuming they had a choice.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 88 - Template - Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 88 - TBD - Part One

Gu Lin ~ City of Unending Sorrows ~ Tim’s Realm

The Tyrant’s audit had proven both a blessing and a curse in equal measure. Utterly incorruptible and devoid of anything approximating mercy, the auditor performed sentencing ruthlessly. They gave no face nor leniency for title or political connections. Even going so far as to extend judgement toward those that attempted to interfere.

Powerful men and women, entire clans and guilds had been ‘exiled’. They were banished to a Secret Realm that served as the Tyrant’s prison. A prison where the auditor claimed they would be offered a final opportunity to pay for their misdeeds before death claimed them.

There was no recourse, no bargaining nor threats that could sway the auditor from his duty. However, it had not stopped the powerful or connected from trying. For all the good it did them.

Which had all been perfectly fine, until the auditor’s attention had shifted from Gu Lin’s rivals and toward her allies.

Lin had never held delusions that her allies' hands were clean. Politics was a dirty business at the best of times, and Cultivators obsession with status and the accumulation of power had a way of rotting men and women from the inside out. Corrupting even the purest and noblest souls over the centuries.

Even so, losing her carefully cultivated alliances left Lin and her Dynasty in a dangerous position.

The auditor had seen fit to provide meat and grains for distribution to the citizenry and had decreed that such provisions would be supplied throughout the transition. However, he had also been incredibly blunt regarding enquiries regarding the Tyrant’s expectations for what would come after.

Complete self sufficiency within a week, and surplus within a month.

It had been centuries since Lin had worked a field, but even she was not so far removed that she had forgotten basic crop cycles and the importance of the seasons. Even if the soil was ready for planting, which was doubtful, it would take months after the first sowing before the first fields would be ready for harvest.

Which had led Lin and her hastily formed council to believe the Tyrant’s expectations bore a broader context. That they would continue as a production powerhouse, or perhaps transition into the mining of raw resources to trade for the required foodstuffs to achieve self-sufficiency.

Reviewing the maps and accompanying reports on available resources within the lands bequeathed to her by the Tyrant, supported their earlier assumptions. The lands would not make her rich by any stretch of the imagination. However, the constant threat of the miasma had been lifted, and there was nothing stopping her from trading with the Tyrant’s other tributaries either.

Concerns regarding the wild Beasts had been met with a somewhat cryptic insistence from the auditor, that, “-none could enter these lands against the Tyrant’s will.” Leading many to believe the wild Beasts had been purged from the majority of the territories or otherwise corralled into a number of limited locations.

Uncertain which of the abandoned cities should be selected to serve as the base for the new capitol, Lin had received permission from the auditor to review the prospective locations in person. Of course, only those who had passed the audit and sworn Oaths of fealty would be allowed to accompany her and there had been several rules regarding the limits of their activities.

Chiefly, they were not to stray beyond the lands assigned to them. Similarly, antagonising the neighbouring nation states was also expressly forbidden and would carry severe consequences.

When the appointed hour arrived, Lin and her cadre of ministers were abruptly teleported from the throne room of her fortress and into the abandoned market square of an empty city, only to be immediately overwhelmed by the Tyrant’s oppressive aura. Instinctively falling to her knees for fear of incurring his wrath, Lin kept her gaze firmly fixed on the flagstones beneath her hands.

After several minutes of absolute silence, Lin risked a glance to try and gauge the Tyrant’s state of mind. Only to discover he was not in their vicinity at all.

Cautiously tracing the aura to its source, Lin realised she had been wrong from the beginning.

As strikingly similar as the aura’s signature was, it did not belong to the Tyrant. Lin knew this because she could sense the Tyrant’s aura in the same general vicinity. Only he was making no efforts at advertising his presence. Just the same as when they had first encountered one another.

There were others as well, similar to the Tyrant yet ever so slightly different. Their strength was unknown yet carried the primal essence of apex predators.

Then, there was the source of the aura Lin had mistaken for the Tyrant. Radiating power that rivalled the sun itself. A gargantuan tree whose branches dominated close to a tenth of the sky and roots that had all but devoured an entire mountain range, save for a rocky peak near the base of the trunk.

Without referencing the map, Lin ‘knew’ that mountain range was off limits.

This was the Celestial Treasure she had been searching for. The sirens’ call that had led herself and others to almost certain death.

The Tyrant’s daughter...

Gathering her Chi, Lin leapt onto the roof of a nearby multistory building and surveyed the lands surrounding the city.

The rolling hills of wild grasses thrummed with otherworldly vitality, possessed of vital energies normally reserved for low or even medium tier medicinal herbs.

Withdrawing a handful of dried peas from her Storage Ring, Lin cast them into the wind and into the distant fields.

The moment the peas contacted the soil, they erupted into riotous growth. Stalks rapidly raced toward the sun while vines, leaves and flowers bloomed to life. The first pods began to appear minutes later, the prospective yield already standing to return the initial investment dozens of times over.

Suddenly, everything began to make sense.

To achieve self sufficiency, all Lin needed was to organise and assign a sufficient number of labourers to work the fields. A lack of experience and expertise would doubtless cut into the prospective yields, but it simply wouldn’t matter. The sheer volume of raw vitality permeating the soil and air would guarantee bountiful harvests for untold generations.

It also went without saying that the vitality shed by the Celestial Tree’s aura was a treasure unto itself. Capable of accelerating and strengthening the development of Cultivators. To make the most of the opportunity, Lin decided that the prime location for the capitol would lie as close to the Celestial tree as possible.

Referencing the maps that had been provided, Lin led her ministers toward the Celestial tree from atop a small formation of Flying Swords.

As they drew closer to the central mountain range, Lin discovered that they were not the only ones to have such aspirations.

From the vantage afforded by her Five Winds Fan, Lin could see a large troupe of intelligent apes waging war against the Beasts of the forest and fortifying a wooden fortress near the base of the mountain.

On the opposite side of the mountain, a large tribe of tigermen appeared to be doing the same. Albeit with far less speed and a great deal more caution.

Neither group was alone. Both had small groups of human Cultivators that were ferrying supplies from beyond the forest but did not appear openly affiliated with one another, bearing different heraldry.

Circling the mountain to the south and east, toward the tigermen, Lin discovered a city being built further to the east. Like an agitated hornets nest, the city was positively swarming with Cultivators.

Unfamiliar with the heraldry flying from the city walls, Lin was tempted to interrogate one of the Cultivators to determine their allegiance. However, with the auditor’s warning still fresh in her mind, she quickly thought better of it.

Returning to exploring the lands of her new kingdom, Lin was surprised to find that new towns and villages were undergoing development a short distance from both her eastern and western borders. Focusing her senses, Lin could see cities undergoing similar development. Expanding beyond their existing walls and raising new walls a considerable distance further afield.

Observing these development projects for quite some time, Lin realised that her situation was by no means unique. Already aware that her long term trade partner Jayesh had surrendered and accepted vassalage just like herself, and was also undergoing an audit. It only made sense that the Tyrant had taken other Monarchs as Vassals as well.

Given the Tyrant’s previous low profile, it only made sense that he had begun taking Vassals very recently. Otherwise, the gains in land and subjects would have made his presence known in the rankings long ago.

As if to prove her point, Lin watched in awe as her western border was torn apart, as if by the hands of an unseen deity, separating her lands from those of her existing neighbours and injecting a salt sea archipelago more than several times the size of her current lands in their stead.

The islets and strands already bore stone and wooden towns and villages, and strange ships plied the sea and skies with equal measure.

Again, the precise heraldry was unfamiliar to her. However, Lin recognised the general designs. It had been a long time since the white-skinned raiders had occupied a place in the top hundred rankings. But their bloody reputation was remembered even now.

Utterly fearless in battle, they would fight to the last man, or woman, seeing their death as the ultimate reward.

Lin had fought such raiders only once before, and she had no intentions of doing so ever again. The gains had simply failed to outweigh the losses, and one on one combat was simply begging for a crippling injury.

The prospect of being neighbours with the raiders made Lin incredibly uncomfortable. Even assuming they were bound by the same Oaths, there was no guarantee that the raiders would care if their Cultivation was stripped from them. Since, presumably, they would act under the assumption that they would be dead anyway.

Lin’s sole source of consolation was the Tyrant’s intentions behind the Oath being taken in the first place. Assuming the Tyrant didn’t want to deal with the infighting that was otherwise prevalent amongst different factions of Cultivators. It stood to reason that he would exact more severe punishments.

“What should we do?” One of Lin’s councillors asked with a hint of fear. “To have the barbarians at our very gates...We must take swift and decisive action!” He drew a short straight edged sword from his hip in a show of exaggerated bravery. No doubt hoping to incite those who were more competent into taking up the call. Moments after making the call to arms, the councillor’s grip on his sword weakened, causing it to tumble to the ground below.

Extending her senses toward the councillor, Lin was shocked to find his meridians were in a state of absolute chaos. Causing his internal energy to fluctuate wildly, and stripping the advanced Cultivator of his enhanced strength in the process.

Considering the sudden onset of his distress, Lin realised that the Oaths they had taken had extenuating criteria. Intention appeared to matter as much as the at itself. Allowing the Oath to exact varying degrees of divine punishment.

Lin’s theory proved true when the counsellor eventually regained control over his internal energy. He had lost a decade, or perhaps more, from his Cultivation and would need to spend a year to reestablish his foundation. A painful and expensive warning for a Cultivator whose best years were long behind him.

“This is to our benefit,” Lin stated firmly, pinning her councillors in place with a hard glare. “Even as we are bound, so too are our potential rivals,” she waved expansively toward the barbarian villages and back toward the reconstruction efforts being made upon the distant cities. “With the Oath protecting our backs, we have no need to fear the hidden knife concealed behind duplicitous promises and treaties. We stand now in the dawn of a new era of growth and prosperity! We need only embrace it!”

Toiling beneath the ever present threat of the cursed lands miasma had taken a toll on the moral bedrock of her subjects. Excusing even the most heinous crimes under the convenient pretence that there may not be a tomorrow to award consequences on the heavens behalf.

Glancing briefly at councillor Cho, Lin accepted that would need to change. She almost felt glad for it. Remaining on high alert against the endless scheming of the guilds, clans and merchant associations had left Lin feeling as if she wore a coat of chains.

To shed even a tenth of that weight would have felt beyond liberating. As it stood, Lin felt an unexpected seed of optimism take root in her heart.

This was an opportunity for change, for growth. To leave behind the mistakes of the past and boldly charge into the dawn of a new future full of possibilities.

The new city would only be the beginning. It was time to forge a new future for herself, and for her people.

**** Orion ~ Legosa City ~ Legosa Labyrinth ****

Resting in the shade of the balla trees, Orion slowly chewed at the stem of sweet grass pressed between his lips. A minor indulgence to better pass the time without compromising his vigil. An important detail given the strange behaviour of humans of late.

The humans had been pushing closer to the clan’s territory. Making excuses when caught and sent back to their village.

The clan elders were engaged in a fierce debate as to what the clan should do.

On the one hand, trade with the humans had brought considerable prosperity to the clan. Securing metal weapons and tools had allowed the clan to move beyond day-to-day survival and into an age of prosperity.

The first trades had been performed generations before Orion took his first breath, and he had assumed such a state of affairs would continue for many more.

Despite their seemingly endless numbers and their cleverness, the humans were ill-suited to hunting the Beasts of the great forest. Requiring dozens of armoured warriors to bring down Beasts that a single hunter could kill without risk of serious injury.

The humans' numbers explained their voracious appetite for Beast flesh and other raw materials, but they never revealed where their metal came from or what lay beyond their village.

A hunting horn peeled a warning in the distance, announcing another human incursion.

Frowning dourly, Orion looked to his fellow warriors to confirm that they too had heard.

A second hunting horn sounded from the East but ended prematurely, abruptly cut off before it established the cause for the warning. Moments later, the same horn called out for a second time, though seemingly from unpracticed lips. Repeating the same warning three times before abruptly falling silent once more. “Humans. Humans. Humans-”

“Protect the village!” Orion snarled, waving his warriors back as he leapt into motion, headed in the opposite direction and toward the source of the alarm. “Heed my call!” He roared, forcing down his mounting fears with adrenaline and fury.

Orion swiftly navigated the underbrush with practised ease, his cloven hooves tearing at the earth as he raced through the gathering shadows of the forest. This was his home, and he knew it like no other.

It did not take long before Orion’s sensitive ears picked out the panicked cries of humans and the savage snarls of wild Beasts. Homing in on the humans’ position, Orion also heard voices shouting and crying out words he didn’t understand.

Slowing his pace, Orion prioritised concealing his presence within the shadows.

Cautiously slipping through the underbrush, Orion’s experienced eyes picked out the fresh tracks of Razorclaws and Goreboars headed toward the direction of the humans. Shortly afterwards, he laid eyes on a massive human hunting party engaged in a fierce battle against a handful of Goreboars.

In the past, such a numerical advantage wouldn’t have amounted to much, and the humans would take serious injuries while holding the line. However, the humans were not alone. Large heavily built figures in metal armour and carrying metal axes and spears were hacking the Goreboars apart before they even had a chance to approach the humans’ lines.

Instinctively, Orion recognised the heavily armoured figures as monsters, and after a few moments of observing them realised they were the source of the words he did not understand.

Observing the human hunting party, a chill swept down Orion’s spine upon discovering one of his fellow clansmen amongst the ranks of the humans.

Badly beaten and bearing a strange metal collar around his neck, the young hunter was shivering and shaking, swaying to and fro as if beset by invisible enemies. Foaming at the mouth, his bloodshot eyes settled on Orion’s hiding place. His body jerked violently and blood erupted from his mouth. “RUN!!!” The young hunter roared in warning, consuming the last of his strength and collapsing to the ground.

Springing into action, Orion drew back his right arm and hurled one of his short spears at a lightly armoured human.

His aim was true and the metal head of the spear tore through the human’s neck, sending him tumbling backward and into two other humans behind him.

Before the humans could react, Orion hurled two more short spears at the humans before turning to flee.

Racing through the forest, Orion pulled the hunting horn from his hip and blew a warning for the clan. He had no idea why, but it was clear that the humans had betrayed them. The hunters and warriors of the clan needed to prepare for battle.

More hunting horns called out the same warning shortly after as other hunt masters investigated the danger for themselves.

Running as fast as he was able, while also obscuring his passage as much as possible, Orion ignored the confused and agitated Beasts left in his wake.

Already on alert, Orion’s ears alerted him to the danger just in time to leap to one side and avoid the metal head of a human arrow. Five more arrows flew after him in rapid succession, forcing Orion to continue on his altered path or risk being struck in the back.

As a huntmaster for his clan, Orion knew the as-yet-unseen enemy was deliberately leading him into a trap.

Sure enough, a trio of hulking brutes in light armour, carrying heavy axes and spears, raced out of the underbrush ahead of him. Heavily scarred and much taller than a human, the unidentified monsters’ bodies were packed with muscle, making them incredibly fast while charging in a straight line.

Drawing one of his few remaining short spears, Orion continued racing straight toward the approaching monsters, making it appear as if he was committed to facing them head-on. Of course, Orion had no such intention. The raw strength advantage possessed by the enemy would make such a move practically suicidal, especially with their numerical advantage.

Fortunately, Orion had several advantages of his own. The greatest at this moment was that he was faster and many times more agile. Capable of radically changing course at incredibly short notice while losing only a small amount of his established speed.

Just as Orion entered the striking range of the enemy spear, he leapt forward and to the unoccupied space to the enemy’s right. Driving his short spear through a gap in the enemy’s armour and into their kidney.

Twisting the short spear free, leaping backward and to the side, Orion spun on the spot and raced away into the forest.

So long as the bowman remained hidden, he couldn’t afford to remain still.

The enemies roared and cursed in their strange language, tripping and skidding through the underbrush as they attempted to correct their course and give chase.

Glancing over his shoulder, Orion was surprised to find that the trio of enemies behind him all appeared to be wearing metal collars that matched the one that had been worn by his clansman. What came as an even greater surprise was the injured enemy matching the pace of his comrades.

If the injury was treated right away, there was a chance that he might staunch the bleeding and live to fight another day. Instead, the enemy was ignoring the injury outright, accelerating the rate of blood loss.

Circling back toward the general direction of the bowman, Orion quickly discovered the limitations of the bowman’s skills.

While seemingly content to loose arrows in rapid succession, the bowman’s aim was relatively poor. So long as Orion remained mobile, and frequently used the trees for cover, he was confident that the arrows would continue to miss their mark. However, he became aware of something else as well. The enemy’s bow was incredibly strong. Which meant a single arrow could prove enough to inflict a fatal injury or potentially outright death.

Tucking his chin against his chest, Orion narrowly deflected another arrow with his right horn, absorbing the transferred energy with his powerful neck muscles and reinforced spine.

Even without a body of water to provide a reflection, Orion knew that the arrow had scored a deep mark in his horn. Proving his earlier deduction regarding the bowman’s strength to be correct.

Rapidly closing in on the bowman’s estimated position, Orion dodged another arrow by less than a hair's breadth and could feel fresh blood running from a light cut on his left thigh.

Ignoring the pain, Orion burst through the underbrush on what he believed to be the bowman’s flank. Luck was with him and Orion found himself less than a dozen feet from the enemy.

Desperate to end the battle as quickly as possible and return to the clan, Orion activated the Hardened Tip Ability and drove the head of his spear through the bowman’s light armour, through his ribs, and into his heart.

Sparing only enough time to retrieve his spear, Orion raced back into motion once more.

The trio of surviving enemies were still hot on his tail and he did not want to lead them back to the clan.

Very nearly caught off guard, Orion barely threw himself to the side in time to avoid becoming impaled on an enemy spear.

Using his decades of experience to quickly regain his footing, Orion seized a loose stone from the ground and pelted it at the enemy’s head to buy himself time to gain distance between them.

Pumping his legs hard, Orion bought as much ground as he could in as short a time as possible while also using the opportunity to regain his bearings.

Rather than risking another head-on confrontation, he decided to lure the enemy into the plethora of hunting traps that littered the forest.

After several long moments, Orion was prepared and began luring the lead enemy into the hunting grounds.

Deep carvings in the trees, made by the first of the clan, marked the position and nature of each trap. Learning their meaning was taught to all young hunters and warriors of the clan before they participated in their first hunt.

Slowing his pace to serve as bait, Orion made his way toward the first trap. Feigning fatigue to encourage a more reckless pursuit.

Sure enough, the enemy took on a fresh burst of speed after noticing Orion’s stride beginning to falter.

The lead enemy’s right ankle tore through the cord trigger of the spiked pitfall trap, removing the support and priming the trap just in time for the enemy to tumble headlong into the pit. There was a brief cry of alarm, but it was abruptly cut off as the enemy impaled themself on the spikes lining the bottom and sides of the pit.

Skirting the pit, the second enemy spared no time for their fallen. Chasing Orion with single-minded determination.

The enemy Orion had fatally wounded at the outset, and was continuing to give chase but was also growing weaker with every passing moment. Extreme exsanguination rendering them incapable of anything more than placing one foot in front of the other. Attempting to navigate around the pit, they lost their balance and tumbled to their death.

Continuing toward the next trap, Orion was momentarily distracted by distant screams echoing from deeper within the forest. Uncertain if they belonged to the treacherous humans or his embattled clansmen, it took everything he had to stay the course and see his current enemy dead.

Nimbly navigating the forest floor with a series of short high leaps to avoid the concealed netting, Orion took a moment to look back to make sure the enemy was going to trigger the trap. To Orion’s immense surprise, the hulking brute was nowhere to be found.

Forcing himself to remain calm, Orion raised his ears and slowly panned his gaze across the wall of trees surrounding him. Besides the distant screams and the pounding of his own heart, he couldn’t make out anything. Orion took a deep breath through his nose, scenting the air for traces of where the enemy might have gone.

After spending more time than he would have liked, Orion caught the enemy’s scent and discovered it was headed toward the sounds of battle still carried on the wind.

Taking only a few moments to make up his mind, Orion took up pursuit.

Intimately familiar with the forest surrounding his home, it did not take Orion long to catch the enemy up. Unfortunately, they had joined hundreds more of their kin and actively engaged in chasing down the remnants of the clan’s fifth hunting party.

With little thought for his safety, Orion hurled his spear into the huddled ranks of humans lingering in the rear.

The human fell with a pained shriek, giving his kin a handful of seconds as a warning before Orion surged into their midst.

Hacking and slashing with his hunting knife, Orion swung his head like a club, smashing his horns into the faces of the panicking humans before trampling them beneath his hooves. Without the monsters to support them, the humans fell with little resistance.

Expecting their monstrous cohort to return and surround him at any moment, Orion prepared to sprint back into the cover of the forest. However, as he cast a wary eye in their direction, he found that they were making no such attempt.

Instead of chasing him down or continuing after the hunting party, they had stopped in their tracks and were staring at the fallen humans.

Uncertain how long the unexpected reprieve would last, Orion slowly backed away into the bushes.

One of the brutes raised his axe high and roared a string of words Orion couldn’t understand, receiving a chorus of savage cries in answer.

As one, the brutes began to charge. Only now, they were headed in the opposite direction to which Orion had first found them. Headed away from the clan home.

Once he was certain the brutes had left for good, Orion retrieved his spear and searched the fallen in hopes that one of his clanmates had survived their grievous injuries. 

Unfortunately, his hopes were in vain. Inachos, Kekrops and Carenos, each blooded in the last cycle, had succumbed to horrifically brutal injuries. Their bodies were broken and abandoned on the forest floor.

A reminder that his eldest, Demos, was likely facing the same danger.

Growing increasingly agitated, Orion began cautiously making his way back to the clan home. Balancing the need for speed against the possibility that he may be pursued, all the while hoping that other hunters had met with greater fortune than those he had encountered already.

Frantic horn calls peeled through the forest as hunting parties engaged and retreated from the advancing human forces.

Sacrificing discretion for speed, Orion redoubled his pace, racing through the underbrush as fast as he was able, only to stop abruptly as another horn joined the chorus.

Icy fingers clutching at his heart, Orion turned to the west. He knew this horn’s voice. He had made it himself and gifted it to his eldest son. 

For a moment, Orion remained still. All but crippled by indecision. Unable to decide whether he should continue to the clan home or see to his son’s safety first.

Taking only a handful of steps toward the west, Orion grit his teeth and forced himself to turn away. Theo was already grown and had a mate and children of his own. As much as it hurt him to admit it, Orion knew that going after Theo, while his mate and children were unaccounted for, would be a mistake.

As Orion drew nearer to the clan home, he found he was not alone. Hunters were returning bloodied. Ragged amalgams of different teams and the warriors that had gone to their rescue.

Passing through the gates of the outermost walls and the inner walls shortly thereafter, Orion hurried toward his den. Slowing only enough so that he wouldn’t knock down or trample those who got in his way.

“Father!” Aegeus, Orion’s second eldest, was standing watch outside the den. The deep cut on his arm was being tended by Euridice, his youngest. 

Before Orion could say a word, his vision was obscured by a wall of darkness and a string of indecipherable symbols. A phenomenon he had not experienced since his Choosing day as a child when he became a hunter for the clan. However, the vision stolen by the darkness at that time had been less than a tenth of what he witnessed now.

An ominous silence spread through the clan home, suggesting Orion was not the only one afflicted with obstructed vision.

The silence was broken by the near-deafening call of a distant horn.

Momentarily too stunned to do much more than blink in confusion, Orion was surprised yet again when the wall of darkness obstructing his vision receded. Shrinking in on itself and skulking in the periphery of his field of view like a scared Beast driven to ground.

Then, Orion felt it. A primal rage stirred in the depths of his soul. A call to violence and war, driving his focus toward the distant human village.

“STILL YOUR HEARTS!!!” The booming cry drew Orion’s eyes away from the trees circling the clan home and toward the clan chieftain, Erastus. Broad-shouldered and packed with slabs of hardened muscle, Erastus had the strength of his three closest rivals combined and was not shy about reminding his critics of that fact.

Orion disliked Erastus on a personal level, but even he would admit that in such a crisis, he could think of no other better suited to lead them.

“WE WILL CONTINUE TO MAKE READY OUR DEFENCES!!!” Erastus roared, staring down members of the clan seemingly at random, searching for signs of dissent. “WHEN OUR HUNTERS RETURN, WE WILL CLOSE THE GATES AND WEATHER THIS STORM AS WE HAVE ALWAYS DONE!!! UNITY THROUGH STRENGTH!!!” He thrust the head of his axe toward the sky, eliciting a chorus of agreement from the clan.

Expecting the chieftain to delegate responsibilities amongst his immediate kin and closest rivals, Orion was surprised when Erastus singled him out from the crowd.

Orion knew better than to defy the chieftain. Sparing only a handful of seconds to confirm the health of his mate, Orion joined the gathering of elders and the warriors of the chieftain’s inner circle.

“This betrayal will not go unpunished!” Erastus growled, gnashing his teeth and pawing at the ground with his hooves to make his anger known to all. “Every death will be repaid tenfold!”

The chieftain's closest supporters nodded and muttered to one another in agreement.

“What of the reaping?” One of the elders interjected. “The Beasts will claim them before our warriors have the chance...”

“The reaping will not defeat them!” Erastus curled his lips in contempt, reserving only a modicum of respect for the elder’s position within the clan. “Those stories made that detail only too clear!”

Orion frowned. The reaping was nothing more than a story told to scare children. For the elders and chieftain to speak of it as if it were real made him feel incredibly uncomfortable.

The reaping was an apocalyptic tale of Beasts gone mad and the annihilation of everything...

“You!” Erastus waved Orion forward and parted the crowd with a single crude motion of his axe. “Spawn of Gaius, you will spy on the human village!”

Orion’s frown shifted to a scowl but he was sensible enough to hastily adopt a more neutral expression before Erastus could take offence. “What of the Beasts, Chieftain?” He asked warily.

“What of them?!” Erastus sneered contemptuously, earning a chorus of jeers in agreement from his closest supporters.

“Our chieftain speaks true, son of Gaius,” one of the elders interjected while watching Erastus nervously from the corner of his eye. “Until the reaping is done, the Beasts and Soulless will give no thought to your presence.”

The other elders nodded sagely in agreement, easing Orion’s misgivings, even if only slightly.

“Go!” Erastus growled, swinging his horned head toward the door with an open threat of violence.

Orion bowed his head submissively and did as he was commanded. Erastus was not cruel or particularly malicious, but he would not tolerate anything that might be seen as a challenge to his authority. Especially with so many witnesses.

Such a confrontation would see Orion dead, or at the very least, crippled. For all Orion’s skill in hunting Beasts, Erastus and his cadre of warriors specialised in fighting the Soulless.

While most in the clan outright refused to acknowledge it, there was little anatomical difference between them and the Soulless. Making the warriors of the clan incredibly adept at dispatching Soulless and troublemakers alike.

Stopping by the clan armoury to restore his stock of throwing spears, Orion made his way toward the outermost gates.

The warriors securing the gate were on high alert and agitated.

As Orion discovered, it was with good reason.

Beasts of all sizes were streaming past the walls in a river of flesh, teeth and claws. Tos Orion’s continued surprise, small groups of Soulless moved amongst them. However, in a complete reversal of all his past experiences, of everything he had known, the Soulless paid him no more mind than a discarded stone.

If Orion had not seen it with his own eyes, he would not have believed it was possible.

Pushing past his confusion and surprise, Orion gathered his courage and cautiously stepped out beyond the gate.

Contrary to his expectations, the Beats and Soulless continued to pass Orion by. Paying him no more attention than the upturned earth beneath their hooves and claws.

Emboldened by their indifference, Orion cautiously picked his way through the stampede, seizing progress where he was able.

As he was on the verge of leaving the walls behind, Orion’s vision was abruptly stolen from him for a second time. Blindly seeking shelter in the hollow of a tree, he took a moment to calm his heart.

Suppressing the primal urge to panic and flee back to safety, Orion realised that the symbols obstructing his vision matched those he had seen before. They were very nearly identical.

Warhorns bellowed in the distance, restoring Orion’s vision. 

Only this time, they came from the direction of the forbidden grove.

The Soulless and Beasts had been thrown into complete chaos, crashing into one another and knocking one another down as a full half of their number abruptly shifted directions. Now headed toward the forbidden grove.

Despite working at counter goals, the Soulless and Beasts made no attempts at deliberately inflicting permanent damage upon one another. Only incidentally.

The chaos presented new dangers for Orion, both slowing his pace through the forest and exposing him to greater harm. After nearly being trampled by a pack of Razorclaws, he almost wished the Beasts would return to their original bloodthirsty nature. 

Almost.

Following the familiar trails leading to the human village, Orion could hardly believe his eyes.

The humans and their allies had been slain in their thousands, their corpses torn apart and left to rot. Inspecting the bodies from the vantage of a low but sturdy branch, Orion felt a mounting sense of dread and overall unease.

He had hunted these forests all his life and knew the Beasts’ capabilities so well that he could recreate a hunt by the traces left behind. Orion had learned to identify them by the faintest scent, fragment of fur or even partial prints left in the dirt.

Whatever was responsible for the carnage before him, was unknown to him.

It moved like a Beast but also appeared capable of wielding weapons like a clansman or human.

Arrogant, yet oddly feminine laughter echoed through the branches of the tree above him, providing Orion’s first and only warning that the creature had not moved on as he had first assumed.

“My, you are a brave one,” the voice hissed with obvious amusement.

Terrified, Orion fought his instincts and stiffly turned his head to try and face the danger. However, he quickly wished he hadn’t.

Staring upward into the higher branches of the tree, Orion found himself captivated by a pair of unnaturally bright blue spheres that were steadily drawing closer. Horrified, he realised too late that they were the eyes of a Beast and that it was no more than a handful of feet from his face. 

The eyes drew in the light, all but blinding him.

“Interessting...” A feminine voice hissed inches from Orion’s left ear. “Terrified...Yet it doess not flee...Insstead...” The voice paused for a moment and Orion felt something moving by the left side of his head, though he dared not look to see what. “It was headed toward the encampment...Interessting...” 

There was a sound like snapping bone which caused Orion to flinch. All at once, he became aware of his surroundings again. 

The unnaturally vibrant eyes were now framed by an almost human face scattered with pale blue scales and a mane of thick hair. A long slender neck connected to a female torso which supported four large scaly arms ending in wicked clawed hands. Stranger still, instead of legs, the torso was supported by a thick serpentine tail.

Following the length of the creature's body, Orion found that the creature had him serounded. Should it have a mind to do so, it only needed to clench its coils, binding him in place before he could so much as think about jumping to the ground. 

The smug predatory smile on the creature’s lips made it clear that it was just as aware of this fact as he was and appeared to enjoy that knowledge was causing Orion distress.

“Are you going to kill me?” Orion asked, already far past the point of terror. “Because I won’t lead you back to the others!”

The creature’s eyes narrowed slightly and it gave an almost imperceptible nod of what might have been approval. “No, I will not sslay you...” The creature replied with a hint of amusement. “Ssuch an act iss forbidden...” It narrowed its eyes briefly and projected an aura of killing intent, “Forbidden asssuming you behave...”

With his heart hammering in his chest and blood rushing in his ears, it took Orion several moments to process what the creature had said and several more to come to terms with it. “Y-You won’t k-kill me?...” The question slipped out before he realised what he was doing.

“Not particularly bright...” The creature observed with a snide hiss, darting its thick and altogether too-long tongue between its lips before retracting it again. “No, I will not sslay you,” the creature repeated somewhat irritably.

A warbling howl sounded from the ground beneath them but was abruptly cut off as the Arboreal Leaper was struck from behind. Its spine shattered by the casual flick of the creature's tail.

“I will allow no harm to come to you while in my charge...” The creature commented, whipping its tail at another Leaper, decapitating it mid-leap as it approached the tree. “I have planss for you Ssatyr...I would see you live a long and productive life...” The creature’s smile widened, splitting its lips to reveal a pair of large venomous fangs and rows of smaller hooked teeth. “I am the Tyrant’s herald...Mistresss of bladess...”  A silvery mist spread from the palms of the creature’s lower pair of claws. With a bright flash, the mist forged itself into a pair of swords. “And you...” The creature leaned in close, leaving only a palm breadth of distance between its face and his own. “You will call me, Senn...”

Although the creature had spoken no louder than before, the word crashed and echoed through Orion’s mind like a frenzied Gorefiend. There was something about the name that made it different. Something that made it IMPORTANT.

As if to prove it was so, a section of Orion’s vision was stolen by a small wall of darkness and more of the strange symbols.

“Impossible...” Orion muttered incredulously, unable to believe what he was seeing.

He could not understand the symbols, but he recognised them, most of them, well enough. They were the symbols that had appeared on the day of his Choosing ceremony...

Where the heck have I been?

Short version, I got sick after Covid weakened my immune response.

So, as I'm sure many people were wondering what was going on, especially after my last post, I thought I would take a moment to explain things before the next chapter goes live.

As I already stated, my recent battle with covid left my body poorly prepared to fight off a bunch of the seasonal cold, flu and other viruses going around. I also didn't realise how badly my breathing was being affected, because I had mentally acclimated to my Covid symptoms as 'normal'.

So, most days, before I realised what was wrong, were a variation on the following.
Wake up. Stare blankly at the chapter for about an hour. Wander around the house in a daze. Feel incredibly sleepy out of nowhere. Go to bed to take a nap. Wake up. Stare blankly at the chapter for about an hour. Wander around the house in a daze. Feel incredibly sleepy out of nowhere. Go to bed to take a nap. And on and on. I completely lost track of time.

As it turned out, another virus had been slowly constricting my throat and my windpipe, making it increasingly difficult to breathe. Which made my quality of sleep garbage, which made it all the more difficult to realise something was wrong.

I have been taking medication for the virus and am doing much better. I'm planning on finishing the edit of the chapter today, or tomorrow at the latest.

I have also paused the billing cycle, giving everyone currently subscribed a free month as part of an apology for not being more communicative. Something I would have done sooner if I had realised what was going on.

Sorry about all that : /

I swear, I have been sick more times this year than in the past decade...

On another note, and as many have probably already seen, the latest art piece from Elynelle has been completed. This piece is a rather simple one depicting Qreet and Dar hanging out by a lake. The next piece iscurrently planned to be Zod (Dungeon Master) and Yor (Spider Librarian).

Update

Okay, so I was stuck in a rewriting spiral for the past couple of weeks. Nothing was meeting my standards and kept coming across as incredibly 'dry' and sterile. Way too much summary and not enough engagement.

So I shifted my approach away from existing characters and onto a new character. The general intent is to explore events outside of Tim's perspective, both in the wider world and within Sanctuary. Providing a better context for what's going on. There are other characters I want to revisit as well, but I need some more in-world time to pass before I can make that happen organically.

After doing some storyboarding, it has been going much better and I think everyone will enjoy it more than I had originally written.

I'm aiming to have the first part completed by tomorrow evening and will move to have the next part completed by Saturday.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 87 - TBD - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 87 - TBD - Part Two

Ignoring the terrified cries from the civilians and Cultivators on the main road, I continued casting my senses outward in search of the demonic essence I had detected within the tiger. Combined with my authority, I felt confident that a Demon or Demonic Cultivator wouldn’t be hard to find.

Detecting a small gathering of individuals with Demonic energy to the west, I looked toward the city and couldn’t help but frown. 

The energy was located beneath the city, deep below the foundation and bordering the vertical limits of the territory.

They were not alone.

There was also a scattering of energy signatures in their general vicinity that did not possess any Demonic energy.

Indulging my curiosity while still exercising caution, I used my authority to draw one of the owners of the Demonic energy to the surface.

Another large green-furred tiger appeared where I directed. Surprised by its sudden change in locale, it was too slow to recognise the danger and disintegrated into a bloom of Demonic energy as my right foot crashed into its ribcage.

Pulling the other sources of Demonic energy, I found all but one of them were the green-furred tigers of identical appearance to the others I had dispatched earlier. However, the exception in their midst gave me pause.

Skin black as coal and packed with muscle, a tall man with wolf-like teeth and a ragged beard cast a baleful eye toward the surrounding tigers. “What is this? Who dares disturb my feast?!” The stranger snarled, sending crimson spittle and fragments of meat and bone tumbling over his lips and down his beard.

Despite bearing a passing resemblance to an Ogre, the stranger was not identified as such by any of my Abilities.

Drawn to the bloody chunk of mangled flesh clutched in the claws of his right hand, my body began moving of its own accord. Seizing the stranger’s head and crushing his skull between my fingers.

The stranger screamed, outrage forgotten and replaced by terror and excruciating pain as my grip continued to tighten.

I could have ended it immediately, killing him in an instant. However, my enhanced senses had identified his meal and I was determined to drag out his end on general principle.

Powerful Cultivators began pouring out of the city, racing over the open ground and soaring through the air with weapons drawn. However, their collective momentum came to a shuddering halt as each wave of newcomers came close enough to witness what was unfolding with their own eyes.

All the while, the coal-skinned Demon desperately flailed his fists against my chest and arm in a desperate bid to free himself from the pain.

Struggling to suppress my rage, I turned to the growing ranks of cultivators. Fingers burrowing through the broken plates of the Demon’s skull and into his brain. “NO ONE IS ABOVE MY LAWS,” I stated grimly. Driving the point home by incinerating the Demon’s head with superheated magical flames.

The Demon’s muscles and sinews ran like melted wax, causing his lifeless body to fall to the ground and the blackened ruin of his skull to follow shortly afterwards.

“SUBMIT TO THE AUDIT WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT YOUR DEEPEST SINS WILL BE LAID BARE. THAT THERE IS NO ESCAPING JUDGEMENT,” I growled. “YOUR ONLY CHANCE AT LENIENCY OF ANY KIND. OF MERCY. IS UNCONDITIONAL COMPLIANCE.” I drove each word home by releasing a wave of concentrated Mana, driving Cultivators from the sky and forcing them all to their knees. “THIS IS YOUR FIRST AND FINAL WARNING.”

Exercising my authority, I left the city behind. Cycling through several different locations before arriving in an isolated territory that was pending a sentience audit.

Sweeping my senses through the territory, I found no signs of anything resembling humanoid life and few Beasts.

Falling to my knees I released a torrent of hot bile from my guts and struck at the ground with all the strength I could muster. Venting the hatred, fury and revulsion from inside of me before it could lay permanent claim on my soul.

Through repeated exposure, I had achieved a degree of numbness to the horror. So it came as a complete surprise that my other self, my original selves, was so vulnerable.

I could feel him, them, raging and screaming inside of my mind. Driven berserk by...

My thoughts turned to my children, inciting a fresh wave of emotions, like poking at a raw nerve.

“My children! NEVER!!!” I spoke the words, but they were not mine alone. Claimed by my other self, the parts that had not yet blended with the core of my mind.

The selectivity was enough to make me sick.

“All of them!” I snarled. “We. Don’t. Choose!”

“Any. Price.” The reply was made with absolute confidence and I was ashamed by the truth it bore.

If I was forced to choose. If there was no other way. I would allow another child to die if it meant my children would survive.

Of course, that only made the extreme reaction that much more perplexing. Insisting only our children mattered, only to lose control when faced with the brutality visited upon those belonging to another.

Which made me realise something about my other self. Despite possessing a collective set of life experiences dozens of times greater than my own. Those experiences were incredibly limited or shallow. Our lives were almost completely alien to one another, connected only through a shared understanding of pain.

My other self gradually settled back into my subconscious, leaving me alone with my own thoughts once more.

Psychological instability...Not an ideal trait for someone responsible for millions, coming up on billions, of lives.

Making no attempts to hide what I had done, I Summoned a projection of Gric and explained my concerns in great detail. Submitting myself to an invasive scan just to make sure I wasn’t going insane.

When Gric only confirmed what I already knew, it didn’t come as the relief I had hoped it would be.

My other self and I were combining, but the integration process was slow going and would almost certainly generate future outbursts similar to the one I experienced already.

Sending the projection away to audit the second Monarch’s territories, I used my authority to draw Gric’s true self to my side.

“I need you to promise me something, Gric,” I insisted grimly.

“Anything, my Tyrant,” Gric agreed, only too eager to obey. Although I doubted he would be so ready to do so if he knew what I intended to ask.

“If I ever become a danger, to my wife or children, to any of you...” My voice failed me and I needed a moment to collect myself. “I need you to do whatever it takes to neutralise that threat...”

Gric grew incredibly still, his reptilian eyes scanning my face with desperate intensity.

“This is not a test, Gric...and I hope it won’t come to it, but I need to prepare for the worst...” I explained quietly while trying not to take away from the enormity of what I was asking from him.

“I...” Gric grimaced and cast his gaze toward the ground. “I...” He repeated, his claws balling into fists and cutting into his palms. “My Tyrant...Do not ask this of me...” Gric begged. “Surely another, even Sebet-”

“I wouldn’t be able to trust them to do it for the right reasons...” I interjected, all the while hating myself for what I was asking of him. It was beyond cruel that I should demand such a thing of someone so loyal. However, there was little alternative.

Sebet would follow any agreement to the letter. Making it close to impossible that she would limit the scope of such a demand to anything resembling the spirit to which it was intended.

I needed a contingency plan in case the worst should happen and I became a deranged lunatic. Not a pretence to allow Sebet the means to void our existing Contract and stab me in the back without warning.

I made no attempts at hiding my thoughts, even going so far as to invite Gric to look upon them and know of my intentions and reasoning first-hand. Denying any potential grounds for debate.

Eventually, and with extreme reluctance, Gric relented and agreed,

Which left the small matter of guaranteeing he would have the raw power required to carry out such a contingency.

Returning to the Oba estate with Gric in tow, I checked in on the Patriarch’s recovery. Unfortunately, with so little time having passed, his condition had not changed.

Establishing myself in the estate training courtyard, I Summoned two projections. The first was a projection of Lurr, the first person I had managed to integrate into the Cultivation system. Albeit completely accidentally and at the expense of his powers in the other system.

The second was Mud. The formerly stunted Ogre outcaste that had become my banner bearer. I had no conscious memory of making the alterations. However, he currently possessed Abilities from both Systems. More than that, he demonstrated an almost natural affinity for the Cultivation System. Progressing without submitting to formal Cultivation training or meditation. Although there was an argument to be made for a lack of brain activity allowing a near-constant zen-like state, replacing the need for active meditation.

Armed with my new understanding of the Cultivator circulatory system, I was momentarily taken aback by what had to be two examples that defied those very same principles.

Where a Cultivator had a central power core located in their abdomen and dozens of secondary power cores scattered throughout the body, Lurr and Mud only possessed a primary core. However, the core was not located in the abdomen, but within their head.

Lurr’s Dantian had replaced his mana stone outright, occupying the cavity within his skull and connecting to the veins that carry blood to the brain.

Mud’s Dantian was located in the same place and similarly connected. However, it was considerably larger, forming a cushion around his brain and occupying some of the space normally occupied by cerebral fluid.

Performing a quick comparison against another Ogre confirmed that they had ‘space to spare’ in that particular regard. However, it did raise concerns regarding potential complications that might arise from future concussions. Although I supposed they would be no worse than what Cultivators faced regarding abdominal injuries. Especially since the Dantian organ itself possessed an unnaturally high degree of resilience compared to mortal organs.

“You want me to bridge the two Systems, my Tyrant?” Gric asked warily. He had an enormous volume of MP already, and it was growing with each passing second. A key perk of sitting atop the Daemon hierarchy and taking a tithe each time a subordinate was Summoned. Combined with the ambient MP harvested from Sanctuary, Gric had few rivals within my Realm.

Giving Gric access to the Cultivation System would potentially increase his power by two or threefold depending upon specific synergies. Of course, such a conversion would no doubt carry inherent risks as well.

Lurr had lost his mana stone outright, and while it was not conclusively the result of integrating with the Cultivation System, there was no evidence to state it wasn’t either. Mud’s retention of his mana stone could be the result of a hundred or more factors aligning in just the right way to avoid outright disaster-

Gric entered a trance-like state, triggering a flurry of activity on a cellular level as he designed and integrated, abandoned and reabsorbed several new organs in rapid succession.

Initially taken aback by Gric’s preparedness, I realised that Gric had almost certainly been entertaining thoughts of such a transformation from the beginning. It was, after all, in a Daemon’s nature to constantly evolve and pursue power.

After what must have been more than a hundred major and minor variations, Gric settled on replacing his second heart outright and partially converting a portion of his vascular system.

Almost immediately, his body began taking in raw energy and converting it into internal energy to form a Foundation around the Dantian. A protective shell that reinforced the organ while also serving as a filter that allowed energy to enter but greatly inhibited its ability to escape.

Watching the process take place before my eyes, I gained a greater understanding of the Cultivation System. Perhaps not as great as Gric himself, but certainly greater than I had possessed an hour earlier.

Leaving Gric to continue on his own, I returned to Momoko’s mountain with Lurr and Mud in tow.

Despite possessing an instinctive understanding that Kwan and my children would regain consciousness in due time, it was important to respect the feelings of Hana and my wife.

So I set aside my remaining duties and settled in to wait alongside them.

Three days passed and Suzy was the first to awaken. Despite her Evolution progressing at a snail’s pace, it was difficult not to notice how much taller she had become. Just the same as what had happened to me, Suzy’s body had grown more compact, her limbs gaining a litheness that through her hybrid genetics lent her movements an almost Elf-like grace.

Allowing Lash's first claim to smother Suzy with affection, I wrapped them both in a firm embrace. Adjusting my grip to avoid crushing Toofy when she abruptly inserted herself in the mix moments later.

Pete awakened only a few minutes after his sister. By chance, our eyes met as Lash dragged him into her arms alongside Suzy.

In those fractions of a second, I came to a deeply disturbing understanding.

He knew.

Thick salty tears ran freely from Pete’s eyes. To my immense surprise, he fought free from his mother’s embrace. Wrapping his arms around my neck and burying his head against my chest. Thick salty tears ran down his cheeks and splashed over my bare skin.

Cradling my boy with all the tenderness I could muster, I gently rocked him in my arms.

Generational trauma was a term I had first encountered during Social Studies class in school. The general concept is that an event is so horrific and traumatising that its effects persist from one generation to the next. Either through the retelling or the dysfunction the event generated.

I didn’t know why Suzy had been spared, but there was no doubt in my mind that Pete had gained first-hand experience of some, or perhaps even, all, of my memories. 

It hurt me to know that my experiences, my life, were causing my child pain. 

Cradling Pete protectively in my arms, I felt a mounting sense of concern for Suzy and to a certain degree, for Momoko as well.

Suzy was not acting like her usual self. Quiet and somewhat sullen, it was obvious that she was only reciprocating the bare minimum affection to avoid hurting her mother’s feelings.

I felt so helpless. Keenly aware that everything was the result of my choices. What made it worse was not knowing how I could try to fix it. What I could do to help them. Because I had never figured it out for myself.

Burying the trauma, forcing it down in the hopes of never having to deal with it again was all I knew. Any semblance of healing I had experienced had been after I had met Lash. Learning to accept myself for who I was and not hate myself just for being different.

Only now my children had experienced hatred for the first time, and it was because of me...

I felt so ashamed...

As I had suspected, Suzy pulled away from Lash at the first opportunity, leaving the stone hut and perching herself on the cliff’s edge. Hugging her knees tight against her chest in an open show of isolation.

The hurt in my wife’s eyes only compounded the shame and guilt gnawing at my soul. This was my fault, but she was being made to suffer for it all the same.

Gently transferring Pete to take Suzy’s place, Lash spared a moment to share a small smile of gratitude in recognition for including her. Which only made the negative feelings inside of me that much worse.

Sparing a moment to gently plant a kiss on Pete’s head, I rose to my feet and followed after Suzy.

Facing away from the door to the hut, Suzy’s face had been hidden from view. Concealing the tears freely running down her face and tumbling down the mountainside. At my approach, Suzy rubbed at her eyes with the back of her forearm, stemming the tide and allowing her time to replace her mask of sullen indifference.

Taking care to afford her a respectful distance, I sat a dozen feet back from the cliff's edge and off to Suzy’s left. I may have risked drawing closer, but there was a risk the cliff might collapse under my weight. A fact she may have been aware of and a contributing factor for her choice of perch.

A long silence dragged out between us, with me struggling to find the words that might bring a measure of comfort and her seemingly content with maintaining the status quo. Until Suzy abruptly turned her head slightly and glared at me from the corner of her eye. Her mouth twisted as her teeth and tusks moved behind her lips, working up the nerve while finding her voice.

Strangely, I was relieved that one of us had something to say. Although I was keenly aware that it almost certainly wouldn’t be something I wanted to hear. Even so, any form of insight I might gain would give me the means to help reduce her pain.

“Am-is-are...” Suzy croaked, scowling and grimacing as her foray into a more mature, or at least modern English syntax appeared to fail her. She growled in frustration, the claws on her fingers scraping across her legs. “Is. Suzy. Ugly?” Suzy grunted, enunciating each word with care despite the pain and shame it brought her.

Her words pierced my heart like a knife. “Suzy...no, sweetheart...” Without thinking I reached out to comfort her. However, I stopped and withdrew my hand when Suzy tensed and made to shy away. “You aren’t ugly Suzy...and you shouldn’t believe anyone who tells you otherwise-”

Suzy narrowed her eyes at me with renewed resolve, the determined accusatory glare voicing her doubts as surely as if she had spoken them aloud. “Even when that person is you?”

“I...” I struggled to find the right words. She was my daughter and deserved the truth, but the risk of inflicting further harm paralysed me with indecision.

The intensity in Suzy’s glare softened, revealing the sadness in her eyes as she turned to face the empty expanse before her.

I was too late. The window to confront and excise the trauma at its source had passed.

“I could never think of you as ugly, Suzy,” my heart aching in my chest, I had to fight hard to keep talking instead of pulling her into a hug.

Suzy glanced at me for a moment and then looked away. Unconvinced.

“Suzy...” I hesitated, fumbling over old scars I had long ago learned to leave alone. “When I was young...I thought my parents had thrown me away...because I wasn’t like the other children...My ears were too big, my skin was grey, everything about me was just...wrong...” For my daughter’s sake, I fought against the urge to repress the negative emotions the memories dredged up in their wake. “Even knowing where I truly came from...It doesn’t change how I felt about myself, or how others treated me...”

Suzy lowered her head and fresh tears began trailing down her cheeks. Taking my words as confirmation of her fears.

“For a long time, there was only one person who insisted otherwise...” I hadn’t thought of my mother in quite some time and couldn’t help but become choked up at that realisation. “No matter how often or how adamantly I argued, she insisted the opposite...I...I used to get so angry at her...I was convinced that she was just lying to me, because how could anyone ever love someone like me?...”

Suzy wiped at her nose with her wrist and looked back at me morosely.

“I couldn’t find the strength to love myself for who I was. I let that hate poison me from the inside, destroying every chance at happiness under the pretence that I didn’t deserve it...I had decided to be miserable, and...” My voice gave out and I had to take a few moments. “And then the one person who was on my side...When she died...I was alone...locked away with the person who hated me the most...”I took a moment to breathe and settle my thoughts. “The words I screamed in the dark and the hateful thoughts thrown at my reflections were never meant for you or anyone else...”

The distrustful glare had left Suzy’s eyes and I could see that I was slowly getting through to her.

“I didn’t know or even dare to dream that another world existed. Even after I was brought here, I didn’t expect anything to be different, and for a while, that appeared to be true.” I still remembered how quickly the adventurers had turned on me. Despite all I had done for them, I was still the ‘other’, a monster in their eyes. “But little by little, I learned that I was wrong and my mother...she had been right all along...” I blinked back the tears but made no attempts at stopping them. “Through your mother, your brother and you, Suzy, I learned to do what I had once thought impossible...I learned to love the parts of myself that I had once so determinedly despised. Because how could I hate those parts of me, when I love you so very very much!”

For a moment, Suzy just stared back at me. Her eyes searched mine for signs of deceit like she was expecting the rug to be pulled out from beneath her at any moment. What felt like an eternity passed but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds at most. Suzy’s defences collapsed, the doubts and fears cast to the wind as she scrambled over the stony ground and into my waiting arms.

I held my daughter close, sheltering her from the world. Serving as her anchor while she purged the dark thoughts, my memories, or whatever form they had taken, from her conscious mind. At least that was my hope.

Still cradling Suzy in my arms, I retreated to the stone hut to rejoin Lash and Pete. If my son was suffering under similar misunderstandings, I wanted to be there to nip such thoughts in the bud. However, before I could think of how I might broach such a subject, Momoko and Kwan awakened within a few moments of one another, generating a considerable degree of excitement from those who were gathered to provide their support.

In stark contrast to Pete and Suzy, Kwan exhibited barely contained manic excitement from the moment he regained consciousness. Leaping about the mountain in his human form, cleaving cliffs from the mountainside with his bare hands and feet. Shattering the boulders and large stones into dust with his palms.

Momoko reacted altogether differently, wearing a melancholic smile as she reassured her aunt and mother that she was fine and apologised for worrying them. The way she made a point of meeting my eye throughout made it clear that we would need to talk. However, unlike Pete and Suzy, Momoko appeared willing and capable of waiting for a more opportune moment.

All three of my children now possessed the capability of independently producing Mana. However, with Pete and Suzy otherwise indisposed, Momoko was the only one actively demonstrating her proficiency in manipulating it.

The mountain had already been saturated with Chi and raw energy produced by Momoko’s tree. Which had in turn caused the plant life and to a lesser extent even the stone itself, to take on and become enriched by these energies. Now that Momoko was producing Mana, that enrichment had been kicked into overdrive.

Even the most scraggly grass had now taken on picturesque and photogenic qualities, waving of their own accord and exhibiting a lustre that would not have been out of place in a shampoo or skincare commercial.

Of course, it didn’t take long for Hana and Kohana to begin taking in the Mana themselves, undergoing several Evolutions in as many minutes before they realised Momoko was the cause.

I had deliberately avoided flooding Sanctuary with my Mana for this very reason. There was no telling what dangers lay in undertaking dozens of minor or major Evolutions in such rapid succession. However, in the circumstances, it wasn’t Momoko’s fault. If anyone was to bear the blame, it would be me.

After all, I was the one that had triggered her Evolution, and her tree, which was every bit as part of her as my arm was to me, was just doing what it was designed to do.

In the beginning, when I first met Hana, I didn’t understand how the Dryads were capable of living such peaceful lives. It wasn’t until later that I realised the consequences that resulted from Hana’s sacrifice, altering her Evolution to accelerate her growth and support Sanctuary.

Dryads, like her sister, had a pacifist effect that protected them from other monsters. Even Variants would struggle to deliberately cause them harm, assuming they could even justify doing so in the first place.

The MP concentrating properties of a Dryad Grove made them valuable elements of any ecosystem they were a part of. Which caused nearby intelligent monsters to protect the Dryads when the Grove was endangered. It was an idealised symbiotic relationship that worked to everyone's advantage.

Corrupted Dryads, like Hana, broke that balance in favour of rapid personal growth. Skewing the symbiotic relationship toward a darker parasitic nature. In exchange, Hana lost her protected status and a measure of her control.

When comparing the trees of the two sisters, those created by and belonging to Hana produced a quarter of the same volume of MP as those belonging to Kohana. With the noted caveat that they also concentrated ten times as much MP at the same time. So while they produced less MP independently, they generated a greater ambient MP level through biopiracy.

Hana could also advance her Evolution by consuming mana stones. The very act that had ‘corrupted’ her in the first place.

Knowing all of that, Momoko was different from the beginning, bearing a greater resemblance to her aunt than her own mother. Both a Dryad and Nature Spirit of the Cultivation System, a daughter formed from my soul and Hana’s ‘flesh’.

Bearing none of Hana’s corruption, but ‘tainted’ by the Cultivation system itself, Momoko fed upon the world simply by the nature of her existence. However, the impossible dichotomy of the Cultivation System also allowed the world to feed upon her in turn. Creating an absurd chain of concentric circles where Momoko’s presence as an apex predator generated resources in excess of what she consumed, promoting ever greater growth. 

Producing Mana in place of Chi, Momoko had now dialled that relationship up to eleven.

The barrier at the base of the mountain was swarming with wild Beasts. Drawn by Hana’s Mana and driven to murderous abandon by the barrier denying them entry, the Beasts tore one another apart in a vicious orgy of violence.

All the while, Momoko’s roots fed upon the dead and dying. Making their power her own, fuelling her growth through the loss of hundreds of thousands of lives.

The Taotie and intelligent Beasts I had charged with protecting the mountain had kept to their word. Patrolling the edge of the barrier and gathering raw materials as the opportunities presented themselves.

Hana and her sister appeared to be aware of what Momoko was doing but showed no signs of being for or against it. Appearing quite satisfied with Momoko’s return to consciousness and unwilling to investigate anything that might cast her recovery into doubt.

I couldn’t blame them for it either.

After a few hours, Momoko had her mother and aunt convinced that she was fine and just needed to rest. Sending them back to Sanctuary after promising she would send for them if she felt even a little ill or out of sorts. Once they left, Momoko beelined straight for the hut, and for me specifically.

Despite her initial confidence, Momoko became dramatically less certain of herself as she made her final approach. “Father?” Her voice trembled slightly and she worried at the hem of her sleeves.

“Yes, Momoko?” I replied softly, trying not to disturb Pete and Suzy, who were both lightly resting in my arms.

“You don’t talk about her, grandmother I mean...” Momoko commented uncomfortably. “I have heard stories of my mother’s mother and even her father...” She looked at me expectantly.

Momoko wasn’t alone in her curiosity either.

Lash wrapped her arm around mine in a show of support and solidarity. Although it was a comparatively easy stance for her to take, given she knew more than most.

Toofy was less gracious, gaining an avid interest and making no attempts at hiding it.

Clarice was more subtle by far but looked all the more awkward for it.

Even Pete and Suzy had begun shaking off their torpor, silently listening with mounting expectation.

Ultimately, it was for their and Momoko’s sake that I relented. There was no telling how much of my memories they possessed, and if I refused to speak of my mother, all memories of her would die with me when my own time came.

She deserved better than that.

With care, I gathered my thoughts and remotely shaped a statue in her likeness. Doing my best to match its appearance against those of my earliest memories.

“She...She’s beautiful!” Momoko exclaimed, rushing forward and fawning over the statue with adoring eyes.

Clarice seemed to choke on her own spit and became caught up in a violent coughing fit.

“Pretty!” Toofy agreed, ignoring all sense of etiquette and rubbing her thumb over the teeth exposed in the statue's wide laughing smile. Paying particular attention to the canines.

“I didn’t appreciate it in the beginning...I was too young to know any better, but my mother was quite young herself when she chose to adopt me.” I explained, taking my time and allowing the emotions to pass through me with as little interference as possible. “She would have been...twenty-four...when she found me in the garbage and took me home with her...The formal adoption process took a while longer, requiring police investigations that I now know were a waste of time despite being performed with good intentions...”

I did my best to relay the memories from my childhood with as little bias as possible, or otherwise making sure to include perspectives with the benefit of hindsight. I was generous, perhaps more than I should have been. However, I believed it was all well deserved.

Inevitably, things took a darker turn all too quickly when I began retelling events from the period when my mother began showing symptoms of the illness that would claim her life. Ultimately I decided against a second statue. I would rather they remember her as I had shown them, in her prime, not the withered shell that haunted my dreams...

Barely clinging to life amidst a tangled mass of tubes and cables...Fighting against the pain because the pills would rob her of her mind...The grim acceptance in her eyes...

Regaining my senses I found myself as the centre of attention amidst a crowd of concerned faces.

“I...I just want you to remember her as she was...Not how I do...” I explained hoarsely, my voice raw with grief.

“Tim...uh...I don’t know what that was, but...” Clarice sniffed and pawed at her eyes, wiping away her tears before they even had a chance to show themselves proper.

“That was the sickness?” Momoko asked quietly before Clarice had a chance to elaborate.

I stared back at her in confusion for a handful of moments before realising what I had done. Subconsciously using my Mana as a medium, I had acted against my own intentions, projecting the memories from my mind into theirs.

Disgusted and disappointed with myself, I had to fight back a rising wave of revulsion.

Lash tightened her grip on my arm, digging in her nails just enough to break my train of thought and concentrate on her instead.  “A burden is lighter, together,” She insisted, more or less paraphrasing the same words I had used when convincing her to open up about her deceased sister.

A part of me wanted to reject the advice out of selfish pride and continue brooding in isolation. However, that same possessiveness served as a damning example of why what I had been doing was not only bad for me but was also dangerous.

“I know,” I agreed with a tired sigh. “But it’s hard...The memories...The pain...They are all I have left of her...” It felt like such a shitty thing to say, especially to my wife, but dismantling the walls I had raised in my heart was a process. On that count at least, I knew she would understand.

Lash smiled supportively and nodded in understanding. “Creating pain, hurting you, is not what she would want,” she pressed, carefully enunciating each word. Once more using my own words against me.

“I know,” I repeated, only this time with more conviction.

Momoko spun a wreath of wildflowers and laid it to rest on the statue’s head. My mother had never been particularly fond of flowers, but I felt certain she would have appreciated the gift all the same.

I felt my other self shift in the depths of my subconscious and received a reminder of debts yet unpaid.

Although they had once numbered amongst my captors, I owed them my freedom. Including all the pain and happiness that same freedom had allowed.

The two cadavers had been spared destruction by chance alone. Removed from the Storage Ring and stowed away out of sight because of how their proximity unsettled my already burdened mind.

With a thought, I retrieved their remains and deposited them each in a stone grave.

Even if I hadn’t known what they had done, what they had sacrificed, on my behalf, they deserved to be remembered for the good that had come from it.

Sealing their graves, I took my time shaping a statue for each of them, showing them as my other self had known them while living.

Even as I worked, I could tell by the strange looks in my children’s eyes that on some level, they recognised them.

“Were they from your world too?” Clarice asked somewhat awkwardly.

“No...” I replied quietly. “Just like you, they were once my jailors...”

“Oh...” Clarice winced and wrung her hands while trying to think of some sort of reply.

“They died releasing me...I owe them a debt I cannot possibly begin to repay...” I continued while hugging Lash and the twins all the tighter. “They betrayed their Species, turned their backs on humanity itself, to guarantee my freedom...”

“Well...if you put it like that...I guess I can see how we are kind of the same,” Clarice commented, her voice choked by conflicting emotions of embarrassment and pride.

“Their names?” Lash asked respectfully.

“Kaine...” Pete answered with a croak, pointing to the armoured male statue.

“Eliza...” Suzy and Momoko answered at the same time, just a half second after their brother, pointing to the newest female statue in the stone labcoat.

It struck me as strange that they would know their names and recognise their faces, but hadn’t known my mother...

Unless...

Unless they hadn’t gained memories of my time on Earth. I had just assumed it was so. Assumed the trauma of MY childhood and MY self-loathing was the source of their distress. When, in reality, my other self had entire lifetimes of trauma to be drawn upon, and I had only skimmed its surface before repressing it.

Melting away the stone walls and roof of the hut back into the mountain, I raised the three statues and the two accompanying graves and then hardened the stone with an Empowered Shape Stone Spell. Casting the Spell a second time, I engraved their names beneath each of the statues.

I was part-way through an accompanying epitaph, [ Lest they be forgotten. ] When Momoko knelt beside my mother’s statue to read the engraving of her full name. “Claire Marie Ross...” She read aloud slowly, unused to the unfamiliar structure and pronunciation. “Grandmother had three names?”

“It was common where I was from,” I explained patiently. “The middle name was to make it easier to identify people, but people also used it instead of their first name sometimes as well.”

“Do you have one?” Suzy asked somewhat reservedly.

“I did,” I replied tiredly. “Or, I suppose I do,” I corrected. “I just never used it...”

“What is it?” Pete asked quietly, drawn briefly out of his lethargy by his insatiable curiosity.

“Robert...” Despite myself, a small smile crept onto my lips. “It was a sort of joke, naming me after her favourite artist. Although she always insisted it was ‘just in case I wanted the option if I took up painting’.” With the joke failing to land due to cultural differences, I let out a deep sigh and contemplated whether it was worth the energy to explain it or whether I should just let it lie.

“Pfft! Your mum called you Bob Ross?!” Jacque snickered in an entirely unladylike manner, bending at the knees, cradling her stomach and cupping her mouth as if fighting hard not to laugh. She hadn’t left earlier but had remained uncharacteristically silent for so long that I had forgotten she was there.

“She did,” I confirmed, smiling a little wider. “I couldn’t pick up a brush or a pencil without getting her hopes up. She was so sure I would become some sort of artist...”

“Well, I guess that’s one more point for women’s intuition,” Jacque cackled with a grin. “I mean, sure, you aren’t much of a painter from what I have seen. But your sketches are incredible, and then there is your sculpting work!” She pointed to the trio of statues. “And unless I’m mistaken, you have made dozens of buildings too. That’s more of an artist than most people I knew who went to fancy schmancy art schools!”

“I don’t think any of the buildings I have made would count...” I countered, “Most of them are barely more than mud huts made out of stone.”

“Which would still leave the other two,” Jacque crowed victoriously, “Mister tortured artist!”

It stung how close to home the accusation came, but I also felt a measure of peace and fulfilment as well. While I had never wanted, or even seriously considered becoming an artist, it was nice to discover I may have accidentally fulfilled one of my mother’s former ambitions.

Allowing things to die down again, I spent the remainder of the day with my family. Allowing Jacque to provide a welcome distraction for my children with stories of her own life from back on Earth.

It came as little surprise that she had spent a considerable amount of her life on the wrong side of the law. Initially for the trill, but later out of necessity, when the length of her rap sheet created a formidable barrier to legitimate employment. By her own confession, Jacque had developed a specialty for identity theft. Discontent with simply gaining access to people’s finances, she would throw herself headfirst into her assumed identities.

A fact that came as little surprise given her assigned Species as a Doppelganger. What was a surprise was the life she had taken that earned her place as an Awakened.

An angry victim had been my initial suspicion. However, the truth was considerably stranger and carried an almost poetic justice for Jacque’s crimes.

Jacque had killed, and was killed by, the psychotic ex of the woman whose identity she had stolen and the life she was impersonating. Fatally wounded in an ambush before she even had the chance to identify him as a threat. Jacque got lucky and managed to nick a femoral artery while fighting him off. Guessing that she had outlived him by less than a minute.

Which, given what I knew of the Systems’ selection criteria for awakened, begged the question of how differently my time in this world would have played out if Jacque had died first, and the psycho ex had been chosen in her place.

Concept Art / OT Chapter 87 P2 update.

The concept art shows a hypothetical battle between a Firm security soldier and relatively low ranking Tiamite fanatic. The scene taking place in an exterior mana construct (Dungeon) replicating terrain (Buildings) from an arid/desert settlement.

I haven't taken the test to confirm it yet, but there is a good chance I have caught Covid. I'm doing relatively alright, nothing serious as of the moment. Just sporadic coughing and sneezing that comes completely out of nowhere. Which has made finishing the current chapter...frustrating...

That said, the symptoms have been relatively mild to begin with and appear to be abating relatively quickly. So I am hopeful I will make a speedy recovery.

Two family members have tested positive with similar symptoms and self-isolated once they found out. But I must have caught it before they managed to do so. Kinda caught us all off-guard. No one else appears to have gotten sick though, so I am thankful for that. Compared to last time, this is a considerably better outcome.

Not going to lie. After the original Covid strain F'd with my memory, I was incredibly anxious. So despite the chapter being postponed a little, I am incredibly releived I haven't had any of those symptoms again.

Going to try to get the part two for chapter 87 finished/editted by Sunday evening, but will update if it finishes sooner or looks like it will take longer.

The next art piece will be character concepts for Gric and Qreet.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 87 - TBD - Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 87 - TBD - Part One

The minutes passed and the Oba Patriarch’s condition continued to deteriorate without showing signs of progress. Unfortunately, he had already passed the point of no return. Without my Mana to artificially prolong his life, Oba Shoji would die.

Even so, the Oba Patriarch did not give in.

Grunting hoarsely through the pain, Oba Shoji wept tears of blood. <For my grandson...Sora...For the Clan...> The same words repeated endlessly through his mind like a mantra.

An hour passed and the Patriarch’s body had begun to shut down.

For all of his pain, Oba Shoji had almost nothing to show for it. The shattered remnants of his Foundation had been drawn loosely together but otherwise remained separated from one another. Creating a core that was no better than he started with. However, having witnessed everything first-hand and in excruciating detail, I was prepared to take a chance.

“Hold him down,” I commanded. While capable of doing so myself, I did not want to risk disrupting my focus.

Oba Kei firmly took hold of his clan Patriarch’s shoulders and guided him back to the ground.

“Legs too,” I added distractedly, attempting to replicate Oba Shoji’s internal energy with my Mana.

Oba Kei nodded stiffly then mounted the Patriarch’s thighs and pinned his shins while keeping a firm grip on his shoulders.

Without further warning, I drew the shattered remnants of the Patriarch’s core into the Mana I had implanted in his abdomen.

Oba Shoji’s body snapped like a spring, pushing against Oba Kei’s hold with desperate vigour before abruptly growing deathly still and slumping back to the ground. 

A notification announced his passing. Dismissing the notification, I began a silent count in my mind as I worked.

With my Mana serving as both crucible and mould, I recast the Patriarch’s core. Substituting portions of my Mana to replace what was missing.

Drawing back my Mana, I took great care to leave the hybrid core behind.

The Patriarch remained unresponsive.

Replacing the Patriarch’s core, his Dantien, was equivocal to replacing his heart. Equating the procedure thus far to having removed the original heart and set the replacement in his chest. If it was not connected to the arteries, it was little better than a hunk of dead meat. Except, In this instance, the cardiovascular and arterial veins were Meridians that were in no better shape than the Dantien had been.

Repeating a similar process to that of the core, I recast the Meridians that connected the most direct path to the Patriarch’s brain and heart. Using Oba Kei as a living reference for an intact system. Hoping that if I could restore the spiritual equivalent of circulation, the Patriarch could be physically resuscitated.

It was a risk, to be certain. However, there had been several dozen instances of CPR bringing ‘dead’ soldiers and civilians back to life and reintegrating them into the system. However, they had belonged to the other System and were relatively young and healthy. I had no idea if what I was doing would work. Only that the alternative was accepting failure.

“Move!” I commanded, not so gently shoving Oba Kei aside as I Summoned one of the highest-ranking Surgeons in Wraithe’s Faction. “Chest compressions! Now!” I barked, the count I had maintained throughout leaving me keenly aware of the dwindling odds of successful intervention.

The confused forty-something-year-old woman leapt into action and began performing CPR.

Unfortunately, my inexperience combined with the precision required had prevented such measures from being performed sooner. Being just as likely to do more harm than good.

The Surgeon completed the first set of chest compressions and had just reached for the Patriarch’s nose in preparation for mouth-to-mouth when the patriarch’s nostrils began to flare and his chest began rising of its own accord.

“Move back,” I ordered, waving the Surgeon back for their own safety. As a projection, any degree of harm would be temporary. However, there was no cause for such pointless suffering. Especially after what I had just been witness to and perpetrated.

Colour gradually returned to the Patriarch’s face and hands, although there was an increasingly obvious difference in vitality that could be observed between them. A difference I could only attribute to the state of the ‘spiritual circulatory system’ and its limited ability to reach beyond its current bounds.

“The Patriarch lives...” Oba Kei stared at the Surgeon in awe. From his perspective, it was no doubt a miraculous act. Especially since she hadn’t used anything other than ‘brute strength’ to perform the compressions. He kowtowed hard, slamming his forehead into the ground. “Divine doctor! The Oba clan is forever in your debt!”

The Surgeon’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she uncomfortably looked to me for help. Uncertain on how she should proceed.

“Your contributions have been noted and appreciated, Maria Shadewood. I will see to it that Wraithe is made aware of this fact,” I announced, as much for her benefit as the Oba Kei.

Dismissing her projection, I took a few minutes to stretch while observing the Patriarch’s condition. 

As I had assumed would be the case, the damaged connection between the Meridians appeared to be incapable of repairing itself independently. The remaining damaged Meridians appeared to behave like massive arterial clots, limiting the volume of internal energy and Chi that could travel through the Patriarch’s body.

The impaired circulation didn’t seem to be immediately life-threatening. However, it would almost certainly affect the Patriarch’s health and mobility. Leaving the Patriarch in a similar position to a low-ranked Cultivator.

Which was by no means bad. Particularly given how close he had been to experiencing the alternative. However, we were not aiming for the bronze medal.

“Hold him down,” I commanded for the second time.

Surprised, Oba Kei moved to obey but kept his silence. Replacing the improvised mouthguard in the Patriarch’s mouth and then taking a firm grip on his shoulders.

“I have no idea how painful this will be,” I cautioned. “But I need him to remain as near to perfectly still as you can manage.”

“I understand, my Tyrant. I will do my best,” Oba Kei replied with grim determination.

I was about to begin when a thought occurred to me. “Is your Patriarch right or left-handed?” If the worst were to happen, I would strongly prefer to do a botch job on his less dominant arm.

“The Patriarch is left-handed, my Tyrant,” Oba Kei answered after giving the question a respectful degree of consideration, just to be certain.

I had noticed a mild difference between the spiritual pathways of the two elderly Cultivators but hadn’t thought much of it. I would need a wider sample size to confirm my suspicions but it was an interesting observation nonetheless.

“Pin his left wrist then,” I ordered. “We will start with his left arm.”

No sooner had I begun replacing the first Meridian bridging the connection to the Patriarch’s left arm, the Patriarch began to buck violently. As if he was possessed by a demon in a Hollywood horror movie.

To his credit, Oba Kei maintained an iron grip and quickly adjusted his stance. Leveraging his superior cultivation to bodily pin the Patriarch against the ground. Allowing only enough space between them for the Patriarch to continue breathing.

Despite the intense response, the Patriarch did not appear to be conscious. Simply responding subconsciously to the intense pain.

Making a point to proceed carefully and avoid inconsistencies, the procedure took the better part of an hour.

“It is working! I can feel the Patriarch’s strength returning!” Oba Kei declared with jubilation. Judging by the lack of effort required to keep the Patriarch’s arm and body pinned in place, I assumed he was referencing the Patriarch’s base physical condition and not his Cultivation.

I hadn’t been sure what to expect initially. However, the more I worked on the Patriarch’s Meridians, the more I came to appreciate how the Cultivators functioned as a ‘Species’. The Dantien and Meridians were incredibly similar to the Mana Stone embedded in each monster’s skull. Serving as the focal point for their power. The biggest difference was that a Cultivator's focal points were tied to physical organs in the body and could ‘bleed’ power after taking a direct blow of sufficient strength.

I had already confirmed that it was possible to have both sources of energy. However, there had been no instances of a Cultivator gaining access to the other System and receiving a Mana Stone.

I had no intentions of experimenting on the elderly patriarch without his consent, but it was a subject I would address once he was in a suitable condition to make cogent decisions.

As I continued replacing the remaining Meridians, I became somewhat more proficient and was able to work a little faster.

It wasn’t a physically taxing process but the extreme degree of concentration required took a mental toll. So I had to take a break after restoring each limb to safeguard against errors due to mental fatigue.

With the last of the Meridians restored, there was little left to do but keep the Patriarch under observation to make sure his condition would not deteriorate. Under other circumstances, I may have Summoned Gric or Sebet to confirm the Patriarch’s brain activity. However, while I could not read his thoughts directly at this particular moment, I could sense a sufficient degree of activity to abate my concerns.

After returning Oba Kei and his Patriarch to their clan manor, I spared a few minutes to consider which issue I would tackle next.

My battle with the Monarchs and Demonic Cultivator had destroyed my Storage Ring and most of its contents. Including the token, I relied upon for remote communication with my ally Yi Gim. Restoring that line of communication was important for several reasons. Not least of which because of my abrupt ascent through the Monarch Rankings.

The more time I allowed to pass without explaining what had happened, the more likely there was to be a misunderstanding. While it was doubtful that such a misunderstanding would lead to violence, Yi GIm possessed a not insignificant amount of information he could use to aid my enemies. Should he choose to do so.

Of course, that was unlikely, given I was currently hosting his family within my Realm for their protection. However, that only presented another reason to reestablish communications and explain what had happened.

Entering Yi Gim’s Realm unannounced and uninvited, was objectively a rude and somewhat impulsive decision. I just had too many matters demanding my attention to care.

Sparing just enough time to dress myself somewhat more appropriately, I opened a Breach into Yi Gim’s Realm. Stepping through into the grounds surrounding the multi-levelled pagoda I had witnessed during my previous visit.

As a distinct landmark, it made establishing the Breach much easier. However, the nature and importance of the building itself presented several complications. Specifically, the powerful Formation and accompanying Arrays I had triggered upon arriving unannounced.

With the Formation forming a physical barrier that denied entry or escape, the Arrays played a more proactive role in targeting me directly with offensive Techniques.

Swords of gold and silver light fell like rain while the water from the nearby decorative ponds formed into serpents and began closing in for the kill.

Casting the Barrier Spell would have brought a swift end to the whole situation. However, it would also likely do considerable damage to the Formations and Arrays as well. So rather than cancelling out the attacks, I chose to open a second Breach and teleport out of the immediate area, bypassing the barrier Formation entirely. Much to the surprise of the guards who had just begun to respond to the unexpected activation of the defensive Formation.

“I would speak with your Monarch,” I announced with exaggerated calm, electing to ignore their drawn weapons while their minds transitioned from the fight or flight response my abrupt appearance had provoked.

I didn’t recognise any of these guards, but it quickly became clear that many of them recognised me. Which wasn’t particularly surprising. I was hardly going to be overlooked in even the largest crowd.

One of the guards, presumably the highest ranking or most senior amongst them, stepped forward and bowed respectfully. Taking care to keep his spear in passive vertical orientation while he did so. “Esteemed Monarch, we were not expecting your arrival. Had we known-”

“It’s alright,” I interjected, cutting off any attempts he might take to assume responsibility. “Fetch your master and I will consider the matter settled.”

Visibly relieved, the guard bowed again and then quickly hurried away.

Waiting for Yi Gim, I kept a careful eye on my surroundings. Without my authority to provide advance warning and the means to relocate enemies at will, I was in a comparatively vulnerable position. Although if the Monarchs I had faced within my Realm were anything to go by, I didn’t have much to fear. Provided I was willing to accept a certain degree of collateral damage.

A thought that reminded me most Monarchs probably had little or no consideration for civilian lives to begin with.

Thankfully, Yi Gim’s prompt arrival diverted my attention from dwelling on such thoughts long enough to seriously weigh their objective merits.

“Greetings, Tyrant.” Yi Gim was wearing the same armour he had worn during my last visit. Forgoing his helmet so we might speak face to face. “You appear unharmed? I am glad for it. When I discovered the token had ceased to function, I had feared the worst.” He smiled and a few of the more stubborn wrinkles around his eyes receded.

I was about to reply when it occurred to me that I had a significant decision to make.

Should I tell him about the true nature of the world? Would such knowledge do him more good than harm? Did he need to know?

I decided to set such thoughts aside to tackle them when I had a clearer state of mind.

“Yi Gim,” I did my best to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Something troubles you?” Yi Gim observed. More a statement of fact than a question.

“A host of Cultivators, including several Monarchs, invaded my Realm,” I replied while trying to keep the resurfacing in my gut from tainting my words.

Yi Gim’s amiable demeanour evaporated almost immediately upon hearing the news. His eyes hardened like steel. “Do you require my assistance? I may not possess a level of Cultivation sufficient to face such a Monarch on my own, but-” He had begun to turn and motion to his loyal retainers, his intentions clear.

“It is not necessary,” I interjected bluntly.

Yi Gim appeared confused.

“I killed them,” I explained matter of factly. “Most of them,” I amended. “It was during the fighting that the communication token was destroyed.”

Yi Gim nodded cautiously but was not put at ease. “Some of their number escaped?” He asked warily, making an effort not to frame it as a failing on my part.

“No...they, and their Realms, are now mine,” I clarified.

Yi Gim gulped dryly and appeared at a loss for words. For a brief moment, I sensed him begin to take steps to probe my internal energy. Only to abandon the attempt just as quickly.

I took a few moments to calm myself and settle back into a more amiable state of mind. “If you are willing, I can take yourself and your people under my protection as well. Realm and all.”

Without intending to do so, at least not just yet, a System invitation for Vassalage was sent to Yi Gim on my behalf.

“You will retain your position as Monarch and will be free to rule your lands, just as you do now. The only condition being that you follow my laws,” I explained patiently. Taking care not to rush through it, allowing Yi Gim time to overcome his shock.

“I...This...” Yi Gim furrowed his brow in confusion, his pupils darting to and fro as he read through the notification over and over again. “How?” He asked distractedly. “How can you do this? I don’t understand...”

“I would explain...Only I doubt you would believe me...” I replied evasively.

I could see the curiosity building behind his eyes. Yi Gim slowly shook his head again. “Why would you do this for me, for my people? What do you stand to gain? It only serves to place a larger target on your back...”

“I believe I am long past that particular consideration...” I sighed. “If you accept, I could show you why.”

Yi Gim’s eyes narrowed slightly. “The invaders...This has something to do with them?” He asked shrewdly.

“It does,” I answered bluntly without revealing anything further.

Yi Gim scowled and stared at the ground for a few moments. “WHAT?!” He nearly leapt out of his skin, staggering backward several steps before stopping himself. Pale as a ghost, Yi Gim stared up at me with intense fear in his eyes. “How?” He gasped, his voice little more than a strangled whisper.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he had done. Given Yi Gim still hadn’t tested my aura, he had to have checked the current Monarch Rankings. I hadn’t been particularly familiar with the rankings, but Yi Gim had been very insistent that the means to enter other Realms without a two-way teleportation Formation, were limited to the top ten Monarchs. By virtue of killing anyone else who acquired said means and then taking it for themselves. Preventing lower-ranked Monarchs from levelling the playing field.

“Home field advantage, and superior strength,” I replied in the same tone as before. Refusing to elaborate further.

“Fifth-ranked!...” Yi Gim hissed disbelievingly, his eyes scanning my body for signs of dismemberment or maiming that he must have somehow missed up until this moment. “The fifth-ranked!...” He repeated with an air of growing hysteria. “Killing the fifth-ranked?!...Impossible!...”

Fear took hold of Yi Gim’s retinue and one of them probed my aura.

The retainer, armoured head to toe, grew deathly still. After a handful of seconds, he collapsed to the ground, drawing all eyes in his direction as he began violently shaking like a leaf caught in a thunderstorm storm. “D-Deity!” The retainer cried with a stammer.

For a moment, everyone grew incredibly still. Then, one by one, and not daring to move a muscle, the remaining retainers and Yi Gim himself probed my aura.

The retainers collapsed, just as their comrade had done moments prior.

“Deity...” Yi Gim wheezed, staggering otherwise remaining standing. He spent several minutes just staring at me before seeming able to speak again. “I don’t understand...” He whispered hoarsely, the tone of his voice and the substantial size difference between us making him appear almost childlike.

“Accept my offer, and I will explain,” I repeated. “Otherwise...I can’t take that risk.”

I could see the gears turning in Yi Gim’s eyes. “Why make this offer now? What has changed?”

“Nothing...” I muttered without meaning to. “Everything...” I amended with a sardonic grin. “It all depends on your point of view...”

“I...I need a few moments to consider...To think things over...” Yi Gim apologised. “This is just all so sudden...”

“It is,” I readily conceded. “But I will need an answer.”

Yi Gim nodded and turned to leave before stopping himself at the last moment. Kneeling beside one of his retainers, he pulled the token from the man’s waist and made as if to throw it to me before seeming to think better of it and humbly offering it up in both hands instead.

Just like that, the nature of our relationship had changed. We had never been truly equal in strength, but there had been enough ambiguity and uncertainty to facilitate a partnership. Now, that uncertainty was gone and the chances of anything approximating an exchange between equals had gone with it.

Returning to my Realm, I spared a moment to choose a new Storage Ring and stowed the communication token on my belt.

Locating Gu Lin’s territories, or rather, her kingdom, I was momentarily taken aback by how relatively underpopulated it appeared to be. In place of the dozens of cities and hundreds of villages, there was only a single city. The city held tens of millions of people. Making it the most populated city I had seen. However, I couldn’t sense a single human that was more than a handful of miles beyond what I assumed to be its outer limits.

Curious, I relocated myself a short distance from one of the small groups outside of the city.

The moment I arrived I realised what was wrong.

The land was positively saturated with Death energy.

A black miasma hung in the air, making it difficult to see the ground or much of anything beyond a dozen or see feet in any given direction. With two notable exceptions.

The first, was to the south, in the direction of the city. A massive wall adorned with thousands of bright emerald lights. The second was a much smaller emerald light to my north-east. The same direction as the small group of people I had detected earlier.

Immune to the Death energy, I slowly made my way toward the group.

It didn’t take long before I became aware of the sounds of battle.

Lengthening my stride, I discovered three Cultivators, two men with spears and a woman carrying a strange lantern emitting emerald light. They were locked in a desperate struggle against a giant zombified bear.

The light from the lantern was driving back the miasma, but only about twenty feet. The lantern appeared to be powered by the female Cultivator’s Chi. Although it could just as easily be part of an exchange involving a Technique or a small Array.

The spear-wielding Cultivators were taking great pains to avoid touching the miasma while stabbing and slashing at the bear. A feat made all the more difficult because of the thin miasma escaping from the bear’s myriad of open wounds.

Watching the battle a while longer, it became increasingly obvious that the Cultivators were out of their depth. Possessing neither the strength nor resolve to fell the bear before being wiped out themselves.

Exercising my authority, I sent them back to the city, depositing them somewhere near the city centre.

Having lost its prey, the zombie bear rose on its hind legs and comically swung its head about in an attempt to find where they had gone. Instead, it found me.

Demonstrating a complete absence of anything resembling self-preservation instincts, the bear released a phlegm-filled roar and began charging through the miasma toward me.

Unwilling to touch the rotten sack of pus and mangy fur, I relocated the bear three hundred feet into the air and then began making my way toward the city.

Unsurprisingly, the bear appeared to have survived the fall. Or was otherwise reanimated by the miasma shortly after impact. However, it was sufficiently mangled that it was more or less immobilised.

Approaching the city walls, I became aware of more undead skulking about in the miasma. The majority were human and appeared to be in a state of suspended decomposition. Their shambling bodies bearing all manner of injuries while appearing to have passed no more than a handful of days before my arrival.

Giving the oddity some thought, I could only guess that the Death energy was killing off the bacteria that would normally accelerate and progress natural decomposition.

Just like the bear, the weaker zombies appeared to be drawn toward my presence. So I dealt with them in the same manner.

Stepping out of the miasma, I found myself roughly a hundred or so feet from the wall and could now make out the massive lanterns anchored into its surface.

Larger, and slightly more ornate than the lantern the Cultivator had carried, they shed the emerald light at a greater distance but with no greater intensity.

A deep mournful ringing sound drew my attention further down the length of the wall and toward a large black bell. Mounted above a pair of massive gates, the bell tolled twice more, for a total of three times, before growing silent.

No doubt attracted by the sound, corpses began shambling out of the miasma and toward the gate. In less than a minute, their numbers had swollen from dozens to hundreds and showed no signs of thinning any time soon.

Arrows and elemental projectiles rained down from atop the wall, thinning the growing horde.

Black-robed Cultivators leapt over the gate and formed a ragged line. Numbering fifty in all, the Cultivators drew their weapons and began cautiously approaching the horde.

An arrow shattered against my forehead, drawing my attention away from the zombies and toward the Cultivators atop the wall.

A deluge of arrows followed, momentarily obstructing my vision.

With my secondary set of eyelids protecting my eyes, I had little to worry about. However, a part of me was quickly growing agitated by the unprovoked attack.

Just as quickly as the attacks against me began, they ended.

With no obvious reason as to why, I began slowly making my way toward the gate. 

I began experimentally stripping zombies of their Death energy whenever they strayed too far in my direction or I was about to overtake them. As I had presumed, and somewhat hoped would be the case, without Death energy the zombies were reduced to inanimate corpses.

With the horde of zombies standing between me and the gate, I paused for a moment to consider my options and became aware of a Vassal rapidly approaching my position from the direction of the city. Given this was Gu Lin’s domain, I wasn’t surprised when my authority identified her as the approaching Vassal. However, the sight of her flying on a giant fold-out fan was another matter entirely.

With the fan in its folded state, Gu Lin appeared to be skiing a particularly thick snowboard through the midday sky—a sight which I found particularly amusing, although I wasn’t sure exactly why.

A hemispherical wall of inanimate corpses was steadily piling higher behind me. The zombies had absolutely zero survival instincts and I was currently standing between them and the gate. Combined with my immense size, it made sense that I was a preferred target.

The black-robed Cultivators had stopped in their tracks, warily studying me while the hoard slowly drew closer. Appearing unwilling to engage the zombies while an unknown was in play.

Which was fair enough. Especially in the circumstances.

Waiting on Gu Lin, I had an opportunity to take a closer look at some of the fallen zombies.

Memories of Mournebrent came unbidden to my mind. As my eyes settled on the small dishevelled form of a child, I understood why. The zombies weren’t mass-produced copies created by the Cultivation System. They had once been alive.

I felt familiar waves of disgust, rage and despair begin welling up within me, only for the sensation to pass without so much as provoking a word of protest or outrage.

I couldn’t change what had already happened. Only ensure that it won’t happen again.

With a thought, I stripped the Death energy from the undead horde and formed an impassable barrier in front of the miasma. Barring more of the zombies from approaching the city and denying the miasma the opportunity to reanimate the corpses on the other side.

Projectiles continued falling from the wall for a few moments longer but quickly grew scarce before stopping entirely.

Aware that there were still a small number of Cultivators on the other side of the barrier, I exercised my authority to return them to the city. Preferring to deal with them now, rather than feel guilt over their passing due to potential negligence later.

Gu Lin landed her fan nearby and returned it to her Storage Ring. “The Vassal greets the Master!” She declared somewhat fearfully, dropping to her knees and bowing her head to the ground. Incidentally dirtying her short robes in the process.

“Tyrant is fine, and don’t grovel,” I commanded. “I am your liege. That does not make you my Slave. It demeans us both to behave otherwise.”

Gu Lin hastily, but elegantly rose to her feet. Although she made a point of bowing her head all the same. “It will be as you say, my Tyrant.”

I wasn’t in the mood for giving the whole spiel on what I deemed was and wasn’t acceptable etiquette. Instead, I decided to deal with the matter at hand. “Am I correct in assuming the entire sum of your territories beyond this point are uninhabited due to this miasma?”

Gu Lin nodded timidly. “Yes, my Tyrant.”

“Do you know the cause?” I asked, hoping for a simple answer.

Gu Lin nodded again. “Yes, my Tyrant. The spiteful actions of a rival long since dead unleashed a curse upon the lands she once ruled.”

“A curse?” I pressed. “Not an Array or Formation?”

Gu Lin remained silent for a few moments and shifted nearly imperceptably on the spot. “I am not certain, my Tyrant...the territories in question have long since passed from my-your Realm. Yet the pall of death remains...”

From what I had seen, the miasma might have been capable of self-replicating. If true, it would explain why it had overrun most of the continent.

“How did you achieve such a high position in the rankings?” I asked, confused by what was a monumental handicap in just about any circumstance.

“When word of the curse spread, very few deemed the losses to be worth the effort...” Gu Lin replied somewhat awkwardly. “Of course, without my Sabel Mirror and the merchants of the Pale River pavilion, Soulfire city would have fallen long ago.”

“The Sabel Mirror is the treasure you sued to invade my Realm?” I guessed.

Gu Lin nodded.

“So you established trading partners with the assistance of the mirror, and transitioned your remaining city into a manufacturing-based economy?” It was the first thing that came to mind when thinking about what I might try to do in similar circumstances.

“More or less, my Tyrant,” Gu Lin replied with a hint of nervousness.

Slaves are a self-replicating commodity.

The thought came unbidden and darkened my mood considerably. Particularly because I couldn’t think of a reason why it wouldn’t be true.

“It will take time to fix this,” I commented, thinking aloud. “Time I would prefer to spend elsewhere...”

Gu Lin remained silent.

“Of course, there is a rather simple solution...” I mused.

Assuming the population of the city wasn’t married to the idea of the status quo. I had several empty cities within the same territories occupied by the Oba clan and home to Momoko’s peak.

“I think it would be best if I were to move you and your people elsewhere,” I decided. “Somewhere they can leave the bounds of the city without becoming a shambling corpse. Come with me.”

Exercising my authority, I teleported us both to the general vicinity of one of the abandoned cities.

Gu Lin was quite understandably disoriented by the abrupt transition, so I allowed her a few moments to adapt. However, her focus was quickly drawn elsewhere.

“My daughter’s mountain is off limits without invitation,” I growled in warning.

As if waking from a dream, Gu Lin blinked blearily several times and shook her head. “Ah, apologies, ma-my Tyrant! I intended no offence!”

I grunted noncommittally in reply. Preferring to let her stew in her anxiety a while longer. “Our purpose for being here was to show you a potential relocation site for you and your people,” I explained dryly.

“With the Tyrant’s blessing, I would gladly accept such a generous offer!” Gu Lin agreed with barely restrained excitement. “With such bountiful lands, I will have no difficulty in collecting a tribute worthy of your greatness!”

“I don’t collect or demand tribute, either,” I commented dryly. “I have no need for it. If you choose to raise taxes, ensure they are reasonable. Beyond your responsibility as a ruler, your primary obligation is the defence of the Realm. When I have a need for soldiers, you will be expected to provide them and ensure they are of a high standard.”

“I understand,” Gu Lin agreed, curbing her earlier enthusiasm to project a more serious air to the proceedings.

I wasn’t sure how effective Cultivators would be in a war against the Angels, but the battles against the Beetlemen gave me cause to be optimistic.

Returning Gu Lin to her city, I Summoned a projection of Gric and intended to leave him to explain the details of the morality audit. However, I became aware of a significant problem. Without the ability to conduct trade across Realms, because there was no way in hell I was going to allow that to happen without serious oversight, her city was going to need an alternative source of food.

Thankfully, the solution was rather simple.

I formed a second barrier in front of the city wall, creating a corridor between the wall and the miasma. With the corridor established, I set that ground as a spawn location for horned rabbits and other low-tier Magical Beasts.

With so many Cultivators living in the city, the spawn rate was incredibly high. While it may not be sufficient in the long term, I was reasonably confident that it should be enough to see the city through its transition. Once those who passed the audit were relocated, they would be able to hunt, farm and trade for whatever they might need.

Of course, a degree of initial assistance was a given. However, experience had proven people were quite capable of seeing to their own needs in these sorts of circumstances. Provided the bad actors were removed beforehand and the existing leadership was well motivated.

There was still a potential problem concerning the merchants' teleportation Formations. Establishing a rule preventing outgoing teleportation from that collection of territories was only half the problem. Anyone who had been absent during the Realm’s assimilation would find themselves in a bad situation if they tried to return without being vetted and recruited beforehand.

It was that very reason that wore on my nerves.

The first of the liberated Slaves would be due to arrive within the next couple of days. However, as much as I hated the thought of their blood being on my hands, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to my children as a direct result of leaving the front door unlocked.

I just had to trust that those responsible for shepherding them through to my Realm were thorough and took steps to minimise the chances of the worst happening.

Reminded of just how much work I had dumped into Gric’s lap, I decided to lighten the load somewhat by Summoning several more projections of him to help share the load. Or at least finish the assignment sooner than he would have done otherwise.

With one Vassal’s subjects more or less handled, it was time to turn my attention toward the other.

A casual sweep with my authority confirmed the situation within Jayesh’s territories was more in line with my initial expectations. With numerous cities and a plethora of far smaller villages and towns dotted across the primary landmass and archipelago.

Assuming my vassal would have residence, or at least hold court in the largest population centre, I exercised my authority and teleported there directly.

Arriving outside of the city walls, I had a good view of the main road and the not-insignificant amount of traffic entering and leaving through the gates.

It also gave me an unobstructed view of a dark-skinned half-naked man desperately running out of the underbrush a hundred or so feet from the road. Four long cuts ran the length of his chest and continued onto his right arm, producing a sheet of blood as the man desperately pumped his arms and legs while racing through the underbrush. Eyes wild with fear, he slowed slightly and raised one hand toward his mouth to amplify his voice.

Before the man had a chance to cry out a warning, a tiger with green and black fur struck him from behind and bore him to the ground.

Reflexively exercising my authority, I pulled the Tiger into my hand and closed my fingers over its ribcage.

The tiger’s yowl of fear and surprise brought the traffic to a standstill. For a handful of seconds, everyone remained perfectly still, with the only noise coming from several domesticated Beasts. Then, as if they had practised for this exact moment, everyone lost their goddamn minds at the same time.

Figuring it couldn’t get much worse than it already was, I dispatched the beast by briefly clenching my fist. Crushing its ribcage and perforating several major organs.

Ignoring the chaos that had taken hold of the road, Turned my attention toward the wounded man, only to discover he had disappeared.

Confused, I teleported over to the place I had seen him last, looking for signs of where he might have gone. Except all I found was an imprint from where he had been knocked to the ground and tracks that marked his passage from further afield.

The trees in the immediate area were sparse, so I could see a considerable distance without major obstructions to my line of sight. Combined with my authority, it should have made finding the injured man child’s play. Except no matter how hard I searched, I couldn’t find him.

Still clutching the tiger in my fist, a strange sensation drew my attention to something I had overlooked in all the excitement.

The tiger’s fur, flesh and bones had begun disintegrating. Which was not something a magical Beast would normally do. Which made it increasingly likely that the tiger had, in fact, been a Summoned creature. A fact that under other circumstances wouldn’t have caused me much cause for alarm.

Unfortunately, now that I was paying attention I couldn’t help but notice the faint yet unmistakable traces of Demonic energy contained within the remnants of the Summoned creature.

Just like that, the priorities for my visit changed.

Next chapter should be ready midday Sunday (OT 87 P1)

I'll update the post if the timetable changes.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 86 - Into the Fold - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 86 - Into the Fold - Part Two

Motivated by sheer spite, the Demonic creature triggered a chain reaction within the core of its foundation by activating a powerful Technique. With no hope of controlling the Technique in its current state, the Demonic creature did the opposite, allowing the Technique to do as it willed.

<SUFF-> The Demonic creature’s gloating was cut abruptly short as his body converted to pure energy, generating a cataclysmic explosion.

Despite escaping the epicentre of the blast thanks to my authority, my hand and arm now carried intense burns. Most of my armour had been vaporised, torn apart or otherwise consumed by the Demonic energy contained within the blast.

Ignoring the coils of smoke and steam rising from my injured arm, I focused on Kwan’s isolated border territory.

The two Monarchs had survived the blast but I could not gauge their condition.

The preexisting Anchor within the border territory and the Anchor worn on my person had both been destroyed. To deny the Monarchs an escape, I used blood from my burned hand to create a new Empowered Spatial Anchor out of stone made with the Empowered Stone Shape Spell and then deposited it deep in the bedrock of Kwan’s territory.

Taking in my surroundings, I was somewhat confused to discover I was standing outside the shrine I had created for purging Heart Demons.

Zhu Min was overseeing the meditation of several younger Cultivators within the temple. Judging by the style of their clothes, and their names, I was reasonably confident that they were newer arrivals from the deceased Demon of the Mists Realm.

Zhu Min had bowed briefly to acknowledge my presence but remained within the temple.

Through my increased sensitivity to Mana and all of its derivatives, I could see the aura of Daemonic energy Zhu Min was using to surround each of the young Cultivators.

Heart Demons were like a cancer of the soul. Not every Heart Demon would prove fatal, but they would alter the Cultivator’s psyche over time if left unchecked.

From my perspective, the negative influence on the Cultivators' minds was the greater danger. Which was why I had made the regular purging of Heart Demons mandatory.

So I was pleased to see that Zhu Min had found a way to augment her own training and development while also seeing to her responsibilities.

The Heart Demons didn’t have a physical form, per se. However, being made from the CUltivator’s internal energy, they could be encouraged to take on forms that separated themselves from the host Cultivator.

As each of the Cultivators materialised their Heart Demons through meditation, Zhu Min destroyed and devoured the Heart Demons with her Daemonic aura.

I didn’t want to break her concentration, so I moved out of her line of sight before Summoning Wraithe.

“My Tyrant!” Wraithe gasped in horror, her chisel-like teeth chittering and generating a spray of sparks as she laid eyes on my burned and savaged arm. “Who has done this to you!” Anxiety almost immediately gave way to intense anger bordering on rage. “I will! I will-” She closed her eyes and forced herself to take a long deep breath to calm herself. “I will...see to your injuries, my Tyrant,” Wraithe began diligently inspecting my injuries while muttering a running list of the tools and materials she would need to best treat the burns and cauterised cuts.

It occurred to me that Wraithe’s job might be made much easier if she was given a small measure of my authority. Allowing her to take any materials she might need from anywhere within the Realm as needed. Wraithe had already demonstrated that she could be trusted. So it was an easy decision.

Wraithe seemed to gain an immediate knowledge and understanding of the limited authority I had given her. Conjuring a dozen sealed glass jars containing foul-smelling pastes alongside a spool of thread and a large curved needle. She was halfway through stitching one of the deeper cuts before she expressed her thanks.

Beneath Wraithe’s steady gaze, the needle and thread gently, but firmly, drew my torn flesh back together again. The alcohol used to sanitise my wounds had also aggravated the burns. However, once Wraithe was finished with the stitches, she began liberally applying the burn cream from within the jars. A process that was performed with far less grace due to the substantial degree of surface area that needed to be covered.

After close to half an hour of treatment, my wounds disappeared in under a few seconds. Thanks to Wraithe’s Healing Abilities and the thoroughness of her treatment.

Dismissing Wraithe’s projection, I returned to the vanguard border territory. Committed to ending what had already been started.

The ocean was gone.

In its place was a large almost perfectly circular bowl formed from the bedrock.

Curiously, the Life Drain Spell had persisted despite my disappearance and the rampant Demonic energy. It was far thinner than it had been before, but it was there.

The Monarchs were both still alive as well. Hiding in the farthest reaches of the territory.

With a thought, I pulled the female Monarch, Gu Lin, to my location at the bottom of the stone bowl.

Mistaking her frantic movements for an attack, I sent her two dozen feet backward with my authority.

After taking a moment to observe what she was doing, I realised that Gu Lin wasn’t attacking at all. Performing what looked similar to Tai Chi on speed, she was actively shifting the Mana of the Life Drain Spell away from herself.

From what I could tell, there was no Technique involved. Gu Lin was using her Chi and Death Affinity to manipulate the Spell. However, it also appeared to require absolute focus. While her eyes were open, she had not looked at me even once.

Recalling the diplomatic relations between the two Monarchs, I decided that there might be room for other options besides execution. I was under no delusions as to why my Realm had been invaded. However, I also wanted to confirm HOW they had done it, and if possible, secure that means for myself.

With a potential war on the horizon, extra territories, and soldiers, would not go amiss.

Exercising my control over the Mana, I drew the persistent Life Drain Spell back from Gu Lin. Leaving her in the centre of the death-free bubble roughly ten feet across.

It took the Monarch a few minutes to recognise she was not in immediate danger. Growing still, she stared at me for several long moments in utter silence. “I offer my sincere thanks for your mercy,” Gu Lin inclined her head in greeting and a show of thanks. “I know I have trespassed and wish to make amends...” She withdrew the amulet from around her neck and offered it with both hands. “Such treasures are no doubt of little value to one with your peerless strength...Yet I have nothing else to offer...”

“How did you enter my Realm?” I demanded coldly, ignoring her attempt at bribery and flattery.

Gu Lin flinched slightly but kept her arms and offer extended. “An ancient treasure, supreme one. Taken from a Secret Realm...”

“How did you know to come here?” I asked. While I suspected the use of powerful Treasures, I needed to know for certain so I could devise some form of countermeasure.

“I experienced a vision while deep in meditation, Supreme One,” Gu Lin replied anxiously, her features becoming strained. “In my greed, my eyes saw only a Celestial Treasure. I sincerely apologise for not recognising the Supreme One’s claim-”

Predictably, the anger came just the same as before. However, this time I was ready for it and kept it firmly under control. “That Treasure...is my daughter,” I growled darkly.

Gu Lin winced and threw herself to the ground, discarding the amulet and falling into a submissive kowtow position. “I did not know! I beg the Supreme One’s forgiveness!” She insisted in a panic. “Whatever it takes to compensate for this sin, I will pay it! Even my right arm!” Gu Lin drew a jewelled dagger from the sash at her waist and moved the edge of the blade to her right armpit. “As a mother, I would demand no less!” She began to apply pressure, causing blood to stain her robes and run down the blade of the dagger.

“Enough.” I confiscated the dagger and amulet with my authority. “Your life is already mine to take.”

Gu Lin threw herself forward, fearfully resuming her kowtow. “Then! Anything! So long as it is mine to give!”

“Submit,” I demanded bluntly. “Swear your loyalty to me and you will be allowed to make amends. Swear upon your soul to serve my Bloodline above all and in all things!” I elaborated, struggling to keep my anger from boiling over and simply killing her on the spot.

It would be so easy...So much simpler...

“I...” Gu Lin’s internal energy began to fluctuate. Perhaps in preparation for an attack. “I so swear upon my soul...” She whispered hoarsely. Defeated and as long-lived as powerful Cultivators were, doubtless imagining what an eternity of servitude would entail.

Acknowledging the notifications announcing the assimilation of Gu Lin’s Realm, I made sure to keep it separated from the others. In the future, I intend to graft all of the Cultivation territories together into a single massive territory. However, it just wasn’t practical without first taking some precautionary measures.

Now that Gu Lin had become my subordinate, I could feel my anger toward her beginning to ebb. Which was a bizarre sensation made all the more strange by my awareness of it taking place.

For her part, Gu Lin remained prostrated on the ground and appeared to be working up the nerve to talk.

“Speak,” I commanded. Catching myself at the last moment to prevent the order from forcing compliance through pain.

“Supreme One, this servant does not dare to presume your will...” Gu Lin answered tentatively, an unspoken ‘but’ hanging in the air as she waited for permission.

I waved my hand, signalling her to continue.

“If it complies with the Supreme One’s will, this servant’s rival would also submit,” Gu Lin stated nervously. “This servant’s rival knows many sealing Techniques and could prove useful.”

It was difficult to tell whether Gu Lin was throwing her rival under the bus, intending to bring him down into servitude alongside her. Or whether she was trying to save his life.

I felt the anger bubbling up inside me again and forced it down.

“If he submits, he will live,” I replied dourly.

Assuming the other Monarch arrived through a similar means to Gu Lin, it would be unwise to simply kill him. Leaving such a treasure to be seized by potential enemies would be a big mistake.

Exercising my authority I moved the second Monarch, Jayesh, into a second sphere cleared of Mana.

Jayesh was sitting cross-legged on the ground with his head bowed and both hands cupped in front of his abdomen. Large clay prayer beads hung from his hands and trembled seemingly of their own accord. Many of the beads were cracked and broken, faintly radiating Mana taken from the Drain Life Spell.

If the state of the beads were anything to go by, the Monarch probably wouldn’t have lasted another hour. However, as things stood, Jayesh appeared no worse for wear. Perhaps a little tired, but otherwise unharmed.

Slowly opening his eyes, Jayesh’s wrinkled brow furrowed with overt concern. His eyes briefly darted to Gu Lin before returning to study me again.

“Submit,” I demanded, scowling as I was forced to suppress my anger.

Jayesh glanced at Gu Lin again before carefully unfolding his legs and transitioning into a kowtow. “I humbly bow before your power.” <Gu Lin? What has happened? Is this the hidden master of the Secret Realm? Should we not team up so that we might escape?>

Initially irritated by his disrespectful behaviour. It took me a moment to realise he hadn’t spoken aloud and was not aware that I heard him.

Gu Lin became deathly still. <Jayesh...This strength is beyond us...Do you not sense it?>

Jayesh carefully extended his senses. Only to immediately withdraw them again. His bald scalp broke out in an intense sweat. <Impossible...A Transcendent Deity?!> Jayesh made a dry choking noise, his hands trembling against the bare stone.

<You test the master’s patience!> Gu Lin replied hastily.

“I submit...to your will...” Jayesh croaked dryly, seeming to struggle to get out the words.

“Swear upon your soul to dutifully and loyally serve my Bloodline above all and in all things!” I demanded, repeating what I had required of Gul Lin almost word for word.

Jayesh’s eyes bulged from his head and veins stood against his sweaty scalp. <A Soul Oath?!>

<Submit, or die...But know that death may not end with you...> Gu Lin replied simply. “The Treasure we sought...It is the Supreme One’s daughter...>

Jayesh froze. In a blur of motion, he suddenly slammed his forehead into the ground, causing the stone to crack and chip from the force of the impact. “I SWEAR TO SERVE THE GREAT ONE!!” He roared. His chest heaved and his body trembled violently in the wake of his Oath. Like a drowning man pulled from the sea only to discover he was still marooned in the middle of a vast uncaring ocean.

With the notifications serving as proof of the Bond, I was just considering my next move when I was alerted to several more invaders entering my Realm.

Unlike the Monarchs and Cultivators that had come before them. The latest batch of invaders were from the other System. Most likely mercenaries, adventurers, or spies that had snuck their way through the external portal in the former Asrusian Capital.

They had died almost immediately, so it was impossible to be certain without investigating the matter further.

“You will govern your Realms in accordance with my laws and directives,” I explained while remaining on alert for potential danger. “Auditors will oversee the transition and guarantee compliance. They speak with my voice and you will obey them as such! Am I clear?”

“Yes! Supreme/Great One,” the two Monarchs replied in near unison.

Using my authority, I sent the Monarchs back to their respective Realms. Taking care to deliver them to populated areas since I didn’t know where they lived or what dangers might exist.

Reluctant to leave the vanguard territory undefended, I realised I didn’t have much of a choice. Either I manned its defence myself or had to accept the risk that whoever I left in my place might be crippled or killed by the overwhelming force of powerful Monarchs or their servants.

Unless...I accepted a compromise.

While Kwan was still almost guaranteed to be unconscious, it wouldn’t make a difference to a Summoned projection.

After gathering Mana for close to half an hour, I Summoned a projection of Kwan in his new humanoid form.

Despite only being a projection, Kwan still appeared incredibly tired. “Mmm-what?” He muttered, blinking blearily in an attempt to bring his eyes into focus. “Where?” Kwan scratched at his head with clawed fingers while taking in his surroundings. Nostrils flaring his serpentine eyes suddenly snapped into intense focus. “WHERE IS THE WATER?!” Kwan howled in anger and despair.

Bending his knees slightly, he then leapt hundreds of feet into the air and remained there as if suspended by an invisible hand. Kwan turned one way and then another, all the while clutching at his head in a panic.

<A Demon destroyed it all.> I explained and replayed my memory of events to show Kwan what had happened.

<That’s not fair...> Kwan sulked. <Can you bring it back?>

Technically, I could. All I needed was a Spell or Technique that generated water or ice as an effect.

Under normal circumstances, a Spell cast with MP or a Technique activated with Chi, would generate its intended effect and then dissipate.

Mana appeared to behave quite differently. Persisting after the Spell was cast so long as it was kept in a stable state.

Reviewing the list of Spells I could potentially add to my Grimoire of Flesh, I found four water-based Spells. Unfortunately, they all involved manipulating water rather than creating it from MP. However, there was a low-level Ice Spell, Ice Bolt, which would theoretically allow the infinite generation of water.

I had spaces to spare but was holding out for a Healing Spell.

Then again, the effects of a Spell were quite often open to a certain degree of manipulation based on the imagination and creativity of the caster. The Fire Lance Spell was intended as a ranged fire-based Spell. However, nothing was stopping the caster from using it to light a camp or kitchen fire or use it as an alternative to a traditional fuel-based fire outright.

After thinking it over, I relented and added the Ice Bolt Spell to the Grimoire of Flesh.

At Kwan’s insistence, I began experimenting with the Spell to see how large a ‘bolt’ I could create.

No sooner had I begun experimenting, than a new wave of intruders materialised within the stone basin.

The wolf cloaks worn on their backs announced their intentions without them needing to utter a single word.

Numbering fifty in all, the wolf-cloaks had come prepared. Active group Formations protected them from the Life Drain Spell’s effects, allowing them free movement within the basin.

A spokesman stepped forward from the group and pointed his crescent-bladed axe at my face. Dark eyes glinting with the promise of violence and yellowed teeth bared, he took a breath and-

The spokesman’s head disappeared, leaving a mangled stump of muscle and a shattered spinal cord.

Fine droplets of crimson misted the faces of the nearest wolf-coat Cultivators. Confused, they stared at the empty space their leader’s head had been only a moment prior. Unable or unwilling to accept what had happened.

Another Cultivator, this one on the left flank, folded over at the waist and tumbled to the ground. His entire armoured midsection now missing and replaced by a ragged hole.

A third Cultivator screamed in terror, staring at the bloody stumps where his hands had been only moments ago.

The scream served as a call to arms, rallying the Cultivators from their collective stupor. However it did little good.

Kwan was too fast to track with the naked eye and struck without warning, cleaving through flesh bone and steel with his bare hands and feet.

Like a herd of frightened sheep, the Cultivators knew there was a predator in their midst but were powerless to do anything about it. So they changed targets.

Seeing this as good an opportunity as any, I formed a stream of Ice Bolts in rapid succession and sent them flying into the centre mass of the Cultivators. Accelerating the bolts and altering their trajectories with my Mana control to guarantee they each found a target.

Despite haemorrhaging numbers, the Cultivators pressed forward with weapons bared and a savage wordless warcry on their lips.

A deafening roar from behind them stopped them in their tracks, seemingly rooting their feet to the ground. Two of the older Cultivators collapsed on the spot, gasping breathlessly while clutching at their chests. Kwan’s challenging cry had strained their hearts to the point of triggering cardiac arrest.

“R-Retreat!” One of the Cultivators cried, fumbling for a jade token hanging from his waist.

The cry was taken up by several others almost immediately afterwards but only served to generate further confusion and panic when their tokens failed to function as intended.

Using the Shape Earth Spell, I impaled several more Cultivators. Skewering them from Groyne to shoulder and then rupturing then finishing them off with dozens of smaller horizontal spikes created from the first.

Kwan took a deep breath, drawing in all of ambient Mana continuing to fuel the Drain Life Spell from within two hundred feet. Disappearing and then reappearing before a cluster of Cultivators, he opened his mouth and disgorged the Mana in a concentrated form several times more potent than the original Spell had possessed when I cast it.

The Cultivators' defensive formation buckled under the onslaught almost immediately. Left unprotected, the Cultivators' flesh and bones disintegrated into a cloud of ash that blinded the nearest survivors who were lucky enough not to be caught in the initial blast.

Attempting to escape, one of the Cultivators unwittingly ran through the concentrated Mana and disintegrated.

Face marred by blood and ashes, a cultivator raised a knife to his throat with the intention of taking his own life. Only for the arm holding the knife to disappear.

Now holding the man’s knife, Kwan threw it at one of the dwindling number of survivors.

The pommel of the dagger struck a man’s temple with a sickening crack, sending his neck snapping backward at an unnatural angle. Having failed to find its mark as intended, and knocked off course besides, the dagger went sailing off into the distance.

The suicidal Cultivator seized a sword from the ground with his left hand and angled the blade toward his throat. Only to find another terrified Cultivator already impaled upon the blade and staring back at him with desperate pleading eyes.

Releasing the blade, the Cultivator cried out in terror and desperately scrambled away. Abandoning the others to their fate and fleeing toward the edge of the stone basin.

Seemingly content to leave the Cultivator be, Kwan continued his bloody purge against the few invaders that remained within the centre of the basin.

As something of a mercy, I cast Thundering Strikes on an Ice Bolt and shot it into the fleeing Cultivator’s back.

Initially impaled by the Ice Bolt, the Cultivator lost his footing and pitched forward. His chest exploded half a second later, killing him almost instantly.

Kwan flexed his fingers and grinned triumphantly. “So much power!” His eyes flashed dangerously as he surveyed the carnage within the basin, searching for another victim.

In other circumstances, at another time, I would have found Kwan’s bloodlust unsettling.

Times had changed.

What I needed was a loyal hound to protect the front gate and deal with any invaders. How those invaders were dealt with was not my concern.

Expecting further incursions, I created five massive towers of ice on the periphery of the territory and then left Kwan’s projection to his vigil. The pillars of ice would melt over time, but it would take hundreds of them to replace the entirety of what had been lost.

Rather than hanging around and leaving myself open to attack. I decided it would be more prudent to simply create additional pillars as I worked elsewhere and then use my authority to deliver them. The five initial pillars were just intended as a show of good faith for Kwan.

Returning to Momoko’s peak, I was not surprised to find a small crowd waiting for me.

Hana was the first to react to my presence. Her long emerald grass-like hair looked frayed and listless. “Tim! What’s going on? Is Momoko going to be alright?” Hana pointed frantically toward Momoko and her peach tree. “I can’t hear her voice! She won’t speak to me!” Thick amber tears rolled down her cheeks.

Kohana embraced her sister and tried to reassure her, but it was clear that she harboured concerns as well.

And they were not the only ones.

The crowd parted, mostly of their own accord, and partly from Lurr’s not-so-subtle prompting. Revealing Lash and our two children seemingly sleeping at her side. “They fell into slumber...and will not wake...” Lash said quietly. While lacking any overt signs of Hana’s panic, there was no less concern.

“Tyrant,” Lurr stepped forward and bowed his head with grim resignation. “Failed you...” He offered his axe and bared the back of his neck in expectation of punishment.

Oba Kei slipped through the crowd, placing himself a step ahead of Lurr but not in front of him. “My Tyrant, there was a terrible Tribulation storm! We did our best to shield them from the Heavens’ wrath, but we were not strong enough...” His left arm hung limply at his side and a heavily bandaged hand could be seen peeking past the hem of his sleeve.

“Momoko is well,” I reassured Hana, sparing a moment to rest my hand on her shoulder as I brushed the others aside so I might approach my other children without trampling anyone in the process.

“There are no signs of injury, my Tyrant!” Wraithe announced anxiously while wringing her tail between her fingers. “I cannot hear them either...Their minds are closed to me...”

“To me as well,” Gric added, his face ashen from failure.

“Me too,” Sebet chimed in awkwardly. “But I only tried bec-”

I motioned her to silence, making it clear I already understood from the context.

“I don’t have anything close to the juice they have,” Jacque commented. “And I can’t hear their thoughts either. But I can feel they are still in there. So there is that,” she shrugged apologetically. Her current form imitated the appearance of Francis Asrus' dead wife, regal dress and all. Striking a bold contrast between her appearance and her words.

Jacque earned scrutinising looks from Sebet and the assembled Daemons.

“Poking about in my head won’t give you anything more than I said already!” Jacque warned, hissing as she rubbed at her temple.

A look from Gric brought the impromptu fact-finding mission to an abrupt halt.

Toofy got up from her place at Suzy’s side and wrapped my leg in a tight hug. “Toofy sorry, Tim,” she sniffled, leaving a trail of tears and slimy mucus on my shin. “Toofy not watch lessons...not there to help...”

I gently lifted Toofy from the ground and hugged her to my chest. “It’s okay, everything is alright.”

Toofy said something in reply, but it came out as an indecipherable string of mangled syllables.

Gently patting Toofy’s back, I continued toward the twins.

“You seem awfully calm...” Clarice commented warily. She winced and clenched her fists. “I mean, I’m not saying you aren’t worried or anything, just...You know...” She brusquely cleared her throat and focused on the twins instead. “Nadine wanted to come but, with her new baby and all...” Clarice shrugged.

I trusted Wraithe’s attention to detail with my life, but I didn’t feel satisfied until I had confirmed with my own eyes that they bore no injuries.

“They will be okay,” I reassured Lash. “I had not expected it to happen so soon, but they are undergoing a significant Evolution.” I took a moment to motion to Kwan and Momoko as well. “I don’t know how long it will take for them to wake. But when they do, they will be far more powerful than they once were.”

In my heart and on an instinctive level, I knew everything I said was true. However, there was more I wasn’t willing to divulge aloud. A part of me feared that giving voice to it would somehow collapse all potential possibilities into an absolute certainty Which was ridiculous and cowardly, given that I already knew it to be true.

Momoko, Pete and Suzy would all pay a price for their newfound power. Just as I had done.

I had seen the change in Kwan already. He had never been particularly averse to violence before, but there was an undercurrent of anger that had not been there before. 

The same anger and rage I felt within myself.

If I could I would spare them, but it was already too late. And as much as I hated to admit, this power would help keep them safe in the uncertain days ahead.

Shifting Pete and Suzy into the small lake, I did my best to make a temporary dwelling that would allow them a measure of privacy. I would have returned them to their beds in Sanctuary, but there was a distinct possibility that they might trigger a tribulation within the Grove. Which would place hundreds, even thousands of other lives at risk.

It was better that they remained here on Momoko’s peak. At least the lightning rods and isolated location would guarantee a certain degree of safety.

Knowing full well that other matters demanded my attention, I remained with my family and did my best to explain what was happening in greater detail. Initially, it was mostly for Lash and Hana’s benefit, but at a certain point, it required referencing what I had learned from the tablet. Which then required further explanations regarding the Angels and the danger they represented. Of course, including my inner circle meant that few of those who had gathered outside were excluded. 

Which was perhaps for the best.

“This is so fucked...” Jacque cursed with a hint of mania in her voice. “I knew there had to be something really fucky about those Labyrinths! I just didn’t expect it would be something this fucking stupid!”

In a very literal sense, only Awakened like us could understand and appreciate the big picture.

It was disturbing how accurate Jacque's initial predictions and assumptions had been. What made it worse, was that the Awakened weren’t even a primary focus of the System. They were a side project intended to synergise with the Tyrant project. A study to determine ideal personality profiles for a leadership caste.

The Awakened project had changed focus long before Jacque had been selected as a candidate. Relegated as advanced training targets for the Tyrant project.

The same went for the Labyrinths and Cultivator territories, They were both training fields intended to provide an approximation for what the tablet referred to as Tiamite Dungeons that existed outside in the real universe. The entire simulation was allegedly hosted using a modified Dungeon.

Which made everything in the simulation an inversion of how the Dungeons normally functioned. Instead of projecting mana constructs externally, it generated mana constructs internally.

Theoretically, it should be possible for a construct to leave the simulation. After all, the reason I had been created was to fight these Tiamites in a great war. Which would be rather pointless if these battles could only take place within the simulation.

“You learned all of this from this...artifice?” Sebet asked, her eyes wide with wonder.

“This is fucking nothing,” Jacque snorted, “The internet would blow your fucking mind!”

“In-ter-net?” Sebet asked curiously.

“It’s like hundreds of thousands of libraries from all over the world, but you can find whatever you want from pretty much anywhere at any time,” I explained. “Literature, art, music-”

“Porn!” Jacque interjected with a cackle, visibly calming down somewhat thanks to the change in topic.

“Pornography? Like lusty romances, indecent paintings and suggestively posed sculptures?” Sebet probed determinedly.

Jacque and I shared a knowing glance.

I made a point of breaking eye contact first and adjusting the twin's submerged blankets.

Jacque grinned lasciviously. “This is gonna blow your mind...”

The room went quiet as Jacque projected her thoughts for Sebet’s viewing pleasure. Unfortunately, whatever was allowing me to eavesdrop on telepathic conversations between Cultivators made me privy to the entire exchange and with no way of knowing how to opt out of it.

“Ooh!” Sebet bounced on her heels and gnawed at her lip in excitement. “This in-ter-net is a valuable artefact indeed!”

Gric snorted dismissively but said nothing.

Clarice looked confused but quickly became embarrassed when Sebet repeated the presentation for her benefit.

“Enough,” I ordered upon realising there was a very real chance my children may possess the same ability as myself. “You are not to raise such subjects around my children until they come of age. Am I understood?” I demanded firmly.

“Of course, my Tyrant,” Sebet agreed without argument.

“That’s fair...” Jacque agreed apologetically. Her expression became conflicted shortly afterwards. “Okay, so hear me out. What age would that be, exactly?” She asked tentatively. “Cause remember, our kids are monsters, and they hatch with a whole mess of things already imprinted in their heads. And they grow up fast-” Jacque raised her right hand from her waist to above her head to emphasise her meaning. “So-”

“Fifteen, minimum,” I interjected. Referencing a conversation I had with Lash on the subject months earlier. “Intellectually, they might be equivalent to a modern eighteen or twenty-year-old as young as a few years old. But emotionally? Most of the tribes don’t consider someone mature enough for a Bond until they reach at least fifteen.”

Lash nodded in support and Toofy scratched her head uncertainly.

“Okay...” Jacque agreed tentatively. “But what about Gric and the other Daemons?”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose to ward off a headache. “The Daemons are a special case...” I sighed tiredly. “Especially Gric. I sincerely doubt there is much of anything you could show him that he hasn’t seen thousands of times already...As for his emotional intelligence, I don’t think I have the necessary doctorates to begin to approach assessing that.”

Gric grinned smugly but soured when Sebet began to snicker.

“Enough,” I insisted. “I have made my darling known, and that’s what we will stick to. So, if you don’t mind, I would like to spend some time with my family.”

“Mhm! Shoo!” Toofy nodded emphatically and splashed at the others until they began moving toward the exit. Content that she had seen them out, Toofy withdrew a large lilypad from her Storage and began making herself at home.

Amused by Toofy’s actions, I decided she could stay. Besides, I felt better knowing that she was looking out for Lash and my children.

After spending a few hours with Lash and Toofy, I reluctantly set myself to work. With war on the horizon, I couldn’t afford to remain idle.

Travelling to the private training grounds in the Oba clan estate, I found Oba Kei directing a small brigade of servants to restore the courtyard to a semblance of order.

The trees and light shrubbery were barely more than blackened ruins, but a small handful of young Cultivators were doing their best to coax the life that remained back from the brink using their Wood Affinity.

The other servants were scrubbing, chiselling and carrying away blackened chunks of masonry and shattered tiles.

“My Tyrant,” Oba Kei bowed respectfully, his left arm hanging limply as he did so.

“Tyrant,” the servants repeated respectfully before returning to their work.

“How may I assist you, my Tyrant?” Oba Kei asked earnestly. No doubt still unfairly blaming himself for what had happened to Pete and Suzy.

If anyone was to blame, it was me. Which made the old man’s injury all the more galling.

“Do you remember our discussion regarding the means of repairing a damaged foundation?” I asked.

“I do,” Oba Kei confirmed, his bright emerald eyes taking on new life and vigour. “Is it time for the Celestial Beast taming ceremony?” He asked excitedly. “Or perhaps a knowledgeable Alchemist has been located?”

I had intended to address the taming ceremony sooner rather than later, given I had been forced to cancel at short notice while dealing with the beetle-men. So I was fine with moving it forward as a priority.

I raised a hand to forestall further questions. “If I recall correctly, you said one possible means of repairing a damaged foundation was by the hand of a powerful Cultivator. Is that true?”

Oba Kei nodded but appeared uncertain. Unlike most, he knew I was not much of a Cultivator at all. Barely an initiate.

“I would discuss something with you in private,” I told him and then relocated us both to an isolated territory. “I will be blunt. Do you believe you could repair a damaged foundation-” I held up my hand again to forestall a reply until I was finished. “-assuming you had at least a portion of my power at your disposal?”

Oba Kei’s eyes widened in surprise and he appeared too shocked to form a reply.

To emphasise my point I gathered a portion of my Mana.

Oba Kei’s face grew deathly pale and he nearly fell to his knees before catching himself at the last moment. “This...My Tyrant...You are a hidden Deity?!” He wheezed breathlessly.

I chose not to answer. I actually wasn’t sure where I would rank on the Cultivator power scale. Especially since my combat capabilities mostly came from Abilities in the other System.

“Yes or no?” Insisted.

“With just a drop of such power...” Oba Kei shook his head and attempted an expansive gesture that failed to translate due to his crippled arm. “Even a foundation torn up by the roots could be grown into a once in a thousand year talent!”

Despite his confidence, I didn't want to get too far ahead of myself. So I made an effort to rein in my expectations.

“Is there an older clan member with a damaged foundation that would volunteer for this experimental treatment?” I asked, utterly unwilling to experiment on children.

The elders of the clan had already participated in inheritance experiments that restored their Cultivation. But the procedure wasn’t ideal. If someone’s foundation was too badly damaged, the procedure could kill the patient.

“The Patriarch...” Oba Kei said quietly, seeming not to realise he had spoken. “The clan Patriarch! His foundation is badly damaged and is in poor health. The Oba clan already owes a debt we cannot dream to repay in a thousand lifetimes...But if you can save the Patriarch and the young lord!... Even our ancient ancestors would sing your praises!”

The young lord, Oba Sora, was the Patriarch, Oba Shoji’s grandson. From what I had been told at the time, Sora had been crippled in a duel. Most of the remaining clan members had been crippled weathering opportunistic attacks from other clans before I decided to take them in.

If Oba Shoji was already on death’s door, it would be hard to find a more opportune test subject that met my moral requirements.

“Inform him of what I have proposed,” I ordered and relocated us both to the private training grounds. “Return when you have an answer.”

Oba Kei Bowed excitedly and raced from the training grounds with the use of a Movement Technique.

To pass the time, I restored some of the damaged stonework and brought new life to the courtyard. Much to the amazement of the young Cultivators.

It didn’t take long for Oba Kei to return with his Patriarch’s reply, along with the Patriarch himself.

Like most of the other elderly Cultivators of the Oba clan, the Patriarch wore long robes that prioritised comfort while advertising status. Thin to the point of emaciation and riddled with liver spots, it wasn’t difficult to believe he was on death’s door. “If it will see my Shoji made whole again, I will do anything!” Oba Shoji barked weakly while leaning on Oba Kei for support. The short affirmation was all it took to trigger a violent coughing fit that left his sleeve stained with blood.

After returning to the isolated territory with the two Oba clan members in tow, I spared a moment to ‘borrow’ an I-beam from the Dwergi foundries to serve as an improvised lightning rod.

“So...How should we proceed?” I turned to Oba Kei for suggestions. “Should I just inject the energy into his core? Or?...”

Oba Kei nodded stiffly. “In instances of severe damage, the Dantian must be forged anew,” he explained while settling the Patriarch into a sitting meditation pose on the ground.

“For the pain, Patriarch,” Oba Kei slipped a thick strip of leather with a strong medicinal scent between Oba Shoji’s teeth.

Oba Shoji grunted in thanks and then gave me a stiff nod to signal he was ready to proceed.

Extending my senses, I gathered a tiny amount of Mana, barely a single point’s worth, and injected it into the shattered remains of the Patriarch’s core. Now there was nothing left to do but wait and see if the venerable Patriarch had the remaining will and grit to see the process through.

Next Chapter Release Update (Ogre Tyrant Ch 86 P2)

The chapter should be ready by midday this coming Sunday (My Time)

So the public SH and RR will be delayed by the same timeframe.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 86 - Into the Fold - Part One {Alternate}

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 86 - Into the Fold - Part One {Alternate}

Continuing to read through my Status, I discovered several other important changes. The first thing I noticed was that my two Status sheets seemed to have combined into one. Containing entries that had belonged to both sheets.

My MP, or Mana Points, and Chi had changed to M, representing pure Mana. The value was lower than what my MP had been but the change was not a loss. 

Instinctively, I could feel that Mana was tens of times more potent and possessed a latent will similar to Chi. Leveraging my authority, I learned the underlying reason. Mana was the true source of Mana Points and Chi, which were its diluted derivatives. This somewhat explained why my two Status sheets appeared to have been combined into a singular whole.

The Mana entry was accompanied by a second change, M/s, or Mana per second. 

The potential ramifications of these two changes alone gave me pause. 

With Mana already multiple times more potent than MP, the M/s stat would allow consecutive casting while heavily investing in each Spell.

Experimentally directing the Mana out of my body and into nearby objects confirmed that it seemed to function the same as Chi. However, investing my Mana into mundane stones or plants also triggered a dramatic change from the mundane into the supernatural.

Wildflowers took on explosions of colour and grew tens of times their natural size. Leaves shimmering with otherworldly rainbows and stems dancing gently despite the absence of a breeze.

The stones glowed with an internal light, casting odd-shaped shadows over the ground that made it look like a slow-moving stream.

Observing these changes, I became aware that they were also gradually changing the plants and stones around them.

As a test, I began investing Mana into a small stone to see how much it could hold.

After reaching what I could only assume was its limit, the stone collapsed and lost its form. Disintegrating into an ambient cloud of Mana

Repeating this test several more times, I was met with the same result and could only assume that inanimate objects and materials had a hard limit on what they could contain.

Plants reacted differently. Instead of disintegrating, they expelled the excess into the air and soil where it was then absorbed by other nearby plants.

Withdrawing one of the weapons from my Storage Ring, it was obvious that the intended purpose of my Mana manipulation was to recharge the internal battery that powered the weapon. However, it came as a surprise to learn how much Mana the weapon could contain without disintegrating. Furthermore, upon reaching what I assumed would be its limits, the weapon began similarly purging its excess to the plants. With the notable exception that the plants made no signs of absorbing the vented excess.

In time, the experiments made me aware of a faint yet persistent drain on my Mana. With a thought, I identified Kwan as the source of the draining effect.

Teleporting to his location, I became confused when I couldn’t immediately lay eyes on him. Only to then realise that Kwan had grown to such an immense size that he was very nearly ALL I could see. A writhing sinewy mass of scales and flesh that extended for hundreds of feet in every direction.

And he was still growing.

Resting a hand against his scales, I could feel Kwan’s mind had withdrawn upon itself. Mentally pressing through his defences, aching waves of fatigue and indescribable pain began flooding through our connection in waves.

Gritting my teeth, I resisted the urge to shy away and close off the connection. Instead, I drew more of the pain and exhaustion into myself, pressing it down and seizing control over it.

Little by little the Mana drain began to ebb. As it did so, a mounting sense of shame passed from Kwan's mind to my own.

<Believed. Strong enough.> Kwan stated apologetically, catching me by surprise with his use of actual words in place of vague impressions.

When the transfer of Mana was brought to a complete halt, Kwan’s immense body imploded, taking on the form of a pale-skinned young man with snake-like eyes and opaque scales lining his cheekbones and brow. Clothed in expensive-looking short robes constructed from his Mana, Kwan slowly drifted to the bottom of the freshwater ocean and slumped into an exhausted heap.

Sweeping him up in one hand, I relocated us both to Momoko’s mountain and then set Kwan down on a large flat rock so he could take in the sun.

Reviewing Kwan’s Status, I became momentarily confused upon learning his information had not changed in the ways I had otherwise expected.

Kwan had gained the Mana stat but did not possess Mana regeneration. He had not lost his MP or Chi either. Furthermore, leeching my Mana appeared to have progressed his Evolution by leaps and bounds.

Strangely, Kwan had gained a Technique as well. Mortal Guise. True to the name, the Technique was what allowed Kwan to take on a humanoid form. What made it interesting, was the primary effect of the Technique. The reduction in size and changing shape was just a side effect that facilitated a faster recovery speed. A smaller size also reduced destructive potential, but that was a situational factor the majority of the time anyway.

Confident that Kwan was on the mend, I turned my attention back toward my own Status.

[Tim - Eldritch Tyrant: - ] [HP: 74/74 ] [M: 157/157* ][M/s: 2.4 ]

[Class: Eldritch Tyrant 15. +15 M.] [Exp: 75,482/1,000,000 ]
[Party: Tim’s Party] [Lash’s Mate]

[Bloodline: {Tyrant 3} +1 Willpower.] [Bloodline Progeny: Pete, Suzy, Momoko.]

[Cultivation Inheritance: {Tyrant’s Body} ]

[Strength: 30* ]

[Agility: 10 ]

[Toughness: 37* ]

[Intelligence: 14 ]

[Willpower: 23 (24) ]

[Presence: 9* ]

[(Racial Abilities: {Hide/Expand})]

[(Legacy Class Abilities: {Hide/Expand})]

[Class Abilities: {Hide/Expand}]

[Techniques: {Hide/Expand}]

[Group Synergies: {Hide/Expand}]

My Evolution had changed more than I had initially released. Not only has my Species changed, but my Class had changed as well. Relegating the former Class Abilities to the Legacy tab. My new Class, Eldritch Tyrant, possessed no Abilities. However, the level appeared to contribute to my maximum Mana at a one-to-one ratio.

My new Species possessed the same Abilities as before but had also gained two more. Eldritch Conduit, and Arcane Syphon.

[ (Racial Ability: Eldritch Conduit.): Your connection to the Well of Souls allows you unparalleled control over the flow of Mana. Enemy {Spells} and {Mana Infused Attacks} are {Drained} of their {Mana} as they approach the Eldritch Tyrant’s location. The rate of {Mana Drain} is determined by the Eldritch Tyrant’s {Maximum Mana} (0.157 M/s). ]

[ (Racial Ability: Eldritch Battery. ): Your presence alone can swing the tide of the fiercest battles, lending power to embattled allies and subordinates. Allies and Subordinates may draw upon the Eldritch Tyrant’s {Mana} to bolster their own. The maximum range of the effect is determined by the Eldritch Tyrant’s {Maximum Mana} (157 feet). The {M/s} that can be drawn is reduced beyond half of the maximum range of the effect (78.5+ feet). ]

After taking a few minutes to process what I had read, I became somewhat confused. The Eldritch Battery Ability explained how Kwan had managed to draw on my Mana to fuel his Evolution and Cultivation. However, he should not have been able to draw on my Mana at such an extreme range. It blatantly defied the disconcertingly specific limits of the Ability.

Silently contemplating the matter for the better part of an hour, I came up with a few theories that might explain it. The simplest explanation was that Kwan's Bond to me provided a sort of backdoor access to the Ability. Another possibility was that my realm was skewing the calculated distance for the Ability.

Sensing a new draw on my Mana, I became aware of changes taking place in the periphery of my vision.

The trunk and branches of Momoko’s peach tree had begun gently waving to and fro, notably out of sync with the wind that swept across the peak.

Concerned for Momoko’s well-being, I concentrated my will to cut off the flow of Mana. However, the drain on my Mana halted abruptly of its own accord, catching me off guard.

My confusion turned to outright shock when I realised the peach tree had begun faintly radiating Mana in place of Chi. Even more shocking, the Mana wasn’t mine. The Mana was similar, even familiar, but it wasn’t the same.

Indulging my suspicions, I inspected Momoko’s Status and discovered that her two sheets had merged, just the same as mine and that she had gained the Mana and M/s stats. Likewise, her Species had changed to Eldritch Tree Spirit, awarding her the same Racial Abilities I had gained earlier.

Concerned that such spontaneous Evolution might cause Momoko to experience the same distress as Kwan, I reached out for her with my authority and drew her onto the palm of my right hand. She appeared a fraction of a second later, eyes closed and sitting cross-legged in a meditative pose. 

Momoko’s eyelids shot open and she sprang to her feet, eyes darting between me and her tree in a panic.

Then, she collapsed.

Horrified, it took me several moments to realise Momoko, at least her human...Spirit, half, had not possessed Mana when she arrived. Now, she did, and it had laid her out like a sledgehammer to the head.

I could feel the Mana building inside of her, feel her skin burning.

The trunk of Momoko’s peach tree groaned, its branches twisting like serpents as the ground began to tremble and crack beneath my feet.

Thunder boomed and dark storm clouds began to gather overhead.

Drawing Momoko to my chest to shield her from the rain, I cast a wary eye toward the sky.

Lightning arced from the clouds with furious intensity, homing in on my location with unnatural accuracy. The lightning rods diverted the lightning, just as they were intended to do. However, the forking bolts of lightning were becoming increasingly aggressive. Seemingly reaching for Momoko like the claws of a ravenous beast.

Staring into the heart of the storm, I became convinced that something was guiding the fury of the storm beyond the original scope of the Tribulation.

“How...unexpected...” A soft male voice murmured in amusement. His words cut through the rumbling thunder with impossible ease, ensuring they were heard without cancelling out the roars of the Tribulation. “Perhaps it is the will of heaven? Hehehe,” the voice commented in amusement. “Little brother, let us not be enemies. Simply surrender the Divine Treasure into my hands, and I may consider taking you as an outer disciple.”

“Divine Treasure?...” Even without asking, I knew that he was referring to Momoko and her peach tree.

“Come now, little brother, such a profound Cultivation resource would be wasted on one of such little talents. Surrender it to me now, and I may prove merciful,” the voice sneered condescendingly.

“No,” I replied firmly and gently set Momoko down against the base of her peach tree and out of the rain.

The rumbling thunder and patter of the rain were swept away by an oppressive and malevolent silence.

“Little brother...you will regret this,” all traces of humour were gone, replaced by indignation, rage, and sadistic anticipation.

Using my authority, I relocated myself to Kwan’s freshwater ocean and waited.

Only a handful of seconds after my arrival, my authority alerted me to the invasion of another Monarch. A fraction of a second later, a tall lithe young man in fine emerald robes and carrying a golden straight-edged sword appeared in the water before me.

His long hair was ornamented with expensive-looking beads and trinkets. Each of which radiated an aura matching what I would have expected from a powerful magic item from the other system.

The invader stared back at me with cold arrogant eyes, their dark intensity carrying the promise of violence. “Little brother,” the young man purred dangerously, unaffected by the water surrounding us. “I am a merciful deity. Throw yourself down at my feet and beg, and I will make your end pain-” His brow knit together in confusion.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I cast the Empowered Spatial Anchor Spell.

The young man released a concentrated wave of Chi carrying the Thunder Affinity.

I felt his Chi probe at my surroundings in an attempt to measure his Cultivation against my own.

The young man physically recoiled as if he had stuck his bare hand against a cast iron stove, drawing his Chi back with lightning speed. Eyes wide and face deathly pale, he hastily raised his sword into a defensive stance. “Ah, b-big b-brother,” the young man stammered, his sword wavering to and fro with the uncontrolled shaking of his arm. “Th-this one intended n-no offence!”

I felt a pulse of Chi emanate from what appeared to be a jewel-encrusted silver hand mirror tucked into the sash of his robe. 

Before the intended effect could activate, the Chi was immediately dispersed by the Empowered Spatial Anchor Spell.

The young man froze.

“W-We c-can t-talk th-this o-over!” The terrified Monarch pleaded, releasing his sword and slowly floating backward through the water with both hands raised above his shoulders. “C-Compensation! T-Take it! I l-leave the T-Treasure to you!”

“Treasure?...” With a thought, I teleported the Monarch back to his original position. Cold fury burned through my veins. “She. Is. My. DAUGHTER!” 

Mana surged from my core, slamming into the Monarch’s spiritual defences in an unrelenting tide. 

“W-Wai-” The Monarch began to gasp, losing his voice as my Mana overwhelmed his internal energy and ravaged his spiritual Foundation. One of the Monarch’s treasures activated, seemingly of its own accord, transforming the Monarch’s body into some kind of monstrous hybrid with characteristics of both Beast and man. However, the presence of my Mana, or perhaps the Monarch’s damaged Foundation, had caused the transformation to be critically unstable.

Beyond the deformed bones and skinless flesh, the Monarch’s very being was collapsing upon itself. The energy provided by the treasure fed into a chain reaction that was consuming and drawing power from the other treasures carried on his person.

Thrashing in pain and lacking the cultivation to eschew his need for oxygen, the Monarch’s final moments were spent desperately gulping down water in the hope of finding air.

With one final mewling shudder, the Monarch grew incredibly still.

Anticipating the danger, I cast Barrier but otherwise remained where I was.

The Monarch’s body exploded.

Blinded by the intensity of the explosion, I felt the abrupt absence of the water that had, until only a moment prior, surrounded me. I felt a mighty gale whip and lash at my skin, burning and then freezing before relenting seconds later.

My eyes recovered and I found myself standing a handful of feet from where I had been standing only moments before. Two deep furrows in the stone and silt marked my passage.

Distant rumbling drew my attention to towering waves racing across the barren ocean floor, devouring the open ground with the insatiable hunger and ferocity of a wild Beast.

Bracing myself for the impact, I tore massive sheets of stone from below the ocean floor to redirect and absorb the inevitable impact.

Anchored in place, when the waves hit, I remained unmoved. Weathering the torrent of debris as it pelted and crashed into my body.

Unharmed but still mildly disoriented, I waited for the silt and debris to settle before exercising my authority to leave. Just as I was about to leave, three intruders appeared a short distance from where I was standing.

Failing to recognise their faces or clan markings, I flooded the surrounding water with my Mana.

Disoriented, the invaders were slow to react. Too slow in recognising the danger.

Leveraging my control over the water, two of the intruders began to drown. Flailing about and clawing at the water as they made a break for the surface.

While I was following the movements of the two drowning men, the third disappeared.

He was still floating more or less where he had arrived. However, he had concealed himself using some form of Technique, making him invisible.

With a thought, I sent a fusillade of small stones in his direction, Investing every pebble with the Thundering Strikes Spell and as much mana as they could hold.

At first, nothing happened. The stones would seemingly strike the open water and then detonate, sending shards whizzing in all directions. It wasn’t long before streaks of blood began trailing through the water, carried in the wake of the shards. Crimson blooms announced the hidden intruder’s end. Blanketing the water in a cloud of blood as the Cultivator’s lifeless mangled body drifted to the ocean floor.

Those who had fled toward the surface were still a long way from reaching the surface, even with their head start.

Pulling on the Mana-infused water in their lungs, I began dragging them back.

One of the intruders had withdrawn a large flying sword from a Storage Ring, leaving his companion for dead in his haste to reach the surface. However, the sudden inertia left his sword arcing off into the distance and well beyond his reach.

The water surrounding the closest intruder flashed and sparkled as trinkets and baubles were withdrawn from a Storage ring and activated in a desperate bid for survival.

Forming a spear from the nearby stone, I launched it at his centre mass. Until I was certain what I was dealing with, I saw no reason to move within arm’s reach.

Three feet from the intruder’s chest, the stone spear became coated in a thick coat of ice and promptly shattered into dozens of pieces.

I threw another spear and it met the same fate as the first.

Changing my approach, I drove the two invaders toward one another.

The sudden arrival of over a dozen armoured intruders forced me to change priorities.

Unlike the trio that had preceded them, the latest arrivals were quick to regain their composure, erecting an Array almost immediately after their arrival. With the first Array erected, the group hurriedly set about raising numerous others. Intending to create a Formation, it was unclear whether it was primarily intended as a defensive or offensive measure.

Chaos erupted within the ranks of the armoured cultivators as a new Monarch invaded my realm and suddenly materialised in the centre of their defensive Array.

Wearing only a breastplate for protection over long flowing robes, the female Monarch dodged and weaved through the flurry of attacks with astounding speed and grace. Narrowly avoiding spear thrusts and elemental Techniques from all directions while taking in her surroundings.

Despite appearing completely on the defensive, the armoured Cultivators surrounding the female Monarch began dropping out of the fight.

One by one, their movements began to slow, their attacks losing their accuracy and ferocity as Death Chi eroded the Cultivators’ life force. Although it was invisible to the naked eye, the Death Chi being projected and trailing from her palms stood out like burning torches to my enhanced senses.

As the armoured Cultivators slowed, the Monarch took her counterattack one step further, slicing at the exposed sections of their armour with her long sharpened fingernails. Blood erupted from the wounds, clouding the water and obstructing her surroundings, further hampering the flagging assault of the armoured Cultivators.

Seemingly no longer content to remain surrounded, the female Monarch began dancing around them instead.

One by one, the armoured Cultivators fell. Dying from a combination of blood loss and corroded life force. However, as the final armoured Cultivator was on the verge of succumbing to their injuries, a third Monarch invaded my Realm.

Time seemed to slow and the two Monarchs locked eyes with one another.

The Array erected by the armoured Cultivators collapsed and the two Monarchs leapt away from one another, flying back twenty feet through the water before firmly planting their feet on the ocean floor.

The newest arrival wore long dark silk robes embroidered with arcane sigils sewn from gold and silver threads. Dark-skinned and bald, with the lower half of his face concealed by a silk scarf, he carried a massive gourd upon his back. The gourd was stoppered with a large cork and plastered with so many overlapping talismans that it almost appeared to have been made of paper mache.

The two Monarchs continued staring at one another for a handful of seconds longer. Neither side willing to make the first move and potentially expose themselves to a counterattack.

“Gu Lin, you are here for the celestial treasure as well?” The dark-skinned Monarch asked with a lilting sing-song accent that reminded me of a student I had shared classes with and had immigrated from India.

The female Monarch, presumably Gu Lin, inclined her head slightly in affirmation. “I am,” she replied softly, narrowing her almond-shaped eyes slightly as she studied the other Monarch’s face. “I do not think it is in either of our best interests to face one another directly, Jayesh. What say you?”

The male Monarch, Jayesh, furrowed his brow slightly for a few moments before relaxing again and nodding in agreement. “It would be most unwise. The Supreme One has been eyeing my realm most covetously of late, and I am most certain his gaze is not limited to my Realm alone.”

Gu Lin frowned with concern, squeezing her dark-painted lips together in distaste. “I have thwarted several plots in the past few months intended to weaken my position.”

“As have I,” Jayesh replied grimly. “It is to be expected. The Destroyer does not wish to allow a challenger to rise, after all.”

Gu Lin looked as if she was about to reply, but stopped abruptly as yet another Cultivator invaded my Realm.

The latest arrival was not a Monarch. However, his arrival triggered a visceral reaction in the two Monarchs that had been peaceably conversing only moments prior. Immediately putting them both on high alert and even showing minor signs of distress.

The Cultivator’s combat robes were black and grey with a grinning crimson skull embroidered on the chest. His long dark hair was tied back into a thick braid that reached his calves. The end of the braid had the crossguard and blade of a dagger. No doubt intended as an unconventional backup weapon.

“You will leave this Secret Realm at once or incur my master’s wrath,” the new arrival stated with a smirk and released a burst of Chi as a show force.

I identified the two Monarchs' source of fear almost immediately. The new arrival was a Demonic Cultivator. While it was unclear whether he was in the same league as the two Monarchs, it didn’t appear to matter.

“We intend no disrespect to your honoured master,” Gu Lin replied diplomatically, bowing her head ever so slightly. “A powerful Formation has us trapped. We cannot withdraw until it is located and disabled.”

The Demonic Cultivator scowled with displeasure and withdrew a token from his robes. “If this is a trick. My master will make an example of you,” he hissed venomously. “Before the end you will beg for-” He stopped mid-sentence, his expression hardening as he glared at the wooden token. “You appear to be telling the truth,” he conceded with obvious disappointment. “You will locate this Formation, disable it, then leave,” he commanded imperiously. “If you impede my search for the Transcendent Treasure in any way, you will face my master’s wrath!”

As the Demonic Cultivator returned the wooden token to his robes, another wave of invaders entered my Realm.

Three dozen in all, the newcomers were armed with a wide range of exotic weapons and wore wolf-fur cloaks over brigandine armour. The sight of the Monarchs and the Demonic Cultivator gave them pause. But that was all.

Without saying a word, the wolf-cloaks launched their attack.

Jayesh and Gu Lin retreated in different directions, abandoning the Demonic Cultivator to face the brunt of the enemy force on his own.

Far from intimidated, the Demonic Cultivator’s lips split into a demented grin. “A pack of dogs wish to bite a dragon?! Then come! Face my flames and curse your mothers for your birth!” Extending his right fist toward the enemy, he released a surge of Chi that materialised into a jet of boiling water. No doubt, he had forgotten we were fully submerged in water.

One of the wolf-cloaked Cultivators raced ahead of his fellows and erected a barrier of ice by swiping his hook-bladed spear through the water and releasing a stream of Chi.

Annoyed that his attack was thwarted, the Demonic Cultivator changed tactics, assuming a fighting posture and materialising a sickle-bladed sword from his Storage Ring. “Face the dragon’s fangs if you dare!” He snarled, eager for the fight and grinning all the while.

Three of the Cultivators flew out from behind the wall of ice and launched lengths of spiked chains through the water and toward the Demonic Cultivator. Pulsing Chi through the chains, the Cultivators activated a Technique that caused the chains to begin writhing and darting like serpents.

The Demonic Cultivator’s limbs were bound and drawn tight together, leaving him vulnerable to attack as five more Cultivators rushed forward for the killing blow.

“Fools!” The Demonic Cultivator released a stream of Demonic Chi infused with Fire Affinity. The chains began to glow, rapidly changing from a dull maroon to cherry red before being torn apart and cast aside entirely. Limbs freed from the spiked chains, the Demonic Cultivator narrowly dodged the first Cultivator’s sword while knocking the spear of the second Cultivator aside and burying the blade of his sword into the chest of the third.

Demonic Chi roared to life within the Demonic Cultivator’s sword and in less than a second, its victim was reduced to a lifeless husk.

Exercising my authority, I stripped the sword from the Demonic Cultivator’s hand and banished it to an isolated territory.

Caught entirely unawares by the sudden loss of his weapon, the Demonic Cultivator took a heavy blow to the shoulder from the enemy’s polearm. Before he could react, the other Cultivator on his flank stabbed his sword cleanly through the Demonic Cultivator’s back and out his abdomen.

Shrieking in pain, the Demonic Cultivator withdrew another sword from his Storage ring and wrenched himself free, leaving a trail of dark ichor trailing from his injuries. Before he could regain his composure, the wolf-cloaked Cultivators continued their attack. Furiously harassing him from one side and then the other.

All the while, their surviving fellows established a not-so-distant perimeter. Planting runed staves into the silt and adorning them with painted wolf skulls.

Convinced that allowing the Cultivators to continue fighting amongst one another would only draw my attention to my Realm, I began gathering my Mana for a decisive attack.

For a brief moment, all of the Cultivators grew impossibly still.

The Demonic Cultivator and the pair of Monarchs were first to act. Abandoning the conflict and racing away as fast as their demi-god physiques would allow. Propelling themselves through the water as much by the strength of their arms and legs as their special Movement Techniques.

The weaker Cultivators were slower to act but moved in absolute unison. Rather than retreat, they surged forward with grim determination in their eyes.

In other circumstances, I would have admired their bravery. However, I was in no position to be merciful.

Waiving my right hand, I sent a wave of death scything through the water between us.

Aquatic flora shrivelled and blackened in the Spell’s wake, serving as the first and only warning of what was to come.

To their credit, several of the wolf-cloak Cultivators raced forwards and attempted to bypass the Life Drain Spell by teleporting a short distance forward before the outermost reaches of the Spell could touch them. Unfortunately, for them, the Spell’s wake was just as lethal. Stripping their vitality and ending their lives almost instantly.

Witnessing the sudden death of their comrades, the remaining Cultivators formed a wedge shaped formation and pressed forwards. As one, they released a stream of Chi to power a hidden Formation.

Unsure how their Formation would fare, I decided that I didn’t want to take the risk.

With a thought, I broke apart their formation by using my authority. Moving each of the Cultivators into an isolated position within the established wake of the Spell.

To my surprise, the Formation held. Persisting through the disrupted position of the Cultivators and shielding them from harm. Unfortunately, the upkeep proved to costly to maintain. Several weaker Cultivators resorted to burning their internal energy, buying their group precious seconds at the cost of their own Cultivation. However, it was all in vain.

Any ground the Cultivators gained was immediately lost as I used my authority to reset their positions. Combined with the means to maintain the Spell near indefinitely, it was a matter of when, not if, they succumbed.

Despite the obvious futility, the Cultivators continued pressing forward. Their former grim determination is now replaced by the savage fury and desperation of a dying animal. Making their intentions perfectly clear.

If they could, they would trade all of their lives to kill me. Knowing that was now impossible, they would settle for making me bleed.

They just never had the chance.

The protection afforded by their Formation began to fail.

In a show of absolute commitment, the crippled Cultivators dropped out of the Formation’s aegis and were ravaged by entropic forces. Their sacrifice extended the survival of those that remained, but to what end was unclear.

With only three of the wolf-cloak Cultivators left standing, my authority alerted me to the arrival of another invader.

A giant spectral wolf appeared in the centre of the arranged staves. Its bright yellow eyes burning through the murk with primal rage and hunger. Although seemingly unaffected by the Life Drain Spell, the Spirit also appeared incapable of leaving the ground segregated by the runed rods.

Two of the three surviving Cultivators began immediately drawing upon their internal energy and channelling it into the defensive Formation far in excess of its immediate upkeep. Once their Cultivation was utterly wrung dry, they abandoned the Formation and died.

The lone survivor stared me dead in the eyes, and despite the distance between us, I could feel his unbridled hatred. Reaching over his shoulder, the Cultivator drew the hood of his cloak up and over his face. Fixing a grey-furred wolf’s head over his own.

The wolf Spirit leapt free from its imprisonment and lunged at the Cultivator’s exposed back. However, instead of bowling the man over, the Spirit entered the man’s body and latched onto his soul.

Attempting to separate them with my authority, I was surprised to find that I couldn’t do it. Wherever I attempted to move one of them, the other was dragged along with them.

All the while, the boundary between the Spirit and the Cultivator’s soul grew increasingly weaker. Causing the essence of both souls to intermingle, bringing about physical changes in the Cultivator’s body. 

Bones were broken and reknit themselves into longer sturdier forms, extending the Cultivator’s arms, legs and digits beyond the protections afforded by his armour. Fingers and toes tore free from their confines mere moments before his hands and feet did the same. The Cultivator’s teeth and nails were violently expelled from his body by their new thicker and sharper replacements. The exposed limbs were covered in thick grey fur that seemed to repel the water despite experiencing complete submersion.

The end result left the Cultivator with the general appearance of a wolfman from a D-List horror movie with cheap and exaggerated prosthesis. Only, the grotesque alterations appeared to be fully functional and responsive despite their disproportionate size.

Without warning, the wolfman dropped the defensive Formation and raced forward several feet with claws and teeth bared.

Indulging my morbid curiosity had dulled my reaction speed, allowing the wolfman to rake its claws across my abdomen before I thought to defend myself.

Unfortunately for the wolfman, its savage surprise attack yielded no advantage. His claws failed to penetrate my hide and only time would tell if they had struck with sufficient force to have left a bruise.

Using my authority, I relocated the wolfman into my hand and seized hold of him about his midsection. Bathing his body in the epicentre of the Drain Life Spell and denying him the means to escape.

Curiously, he proved incredibly resistant to the effects of the Spell. While not outright immune, it became clear that it would take hours, perhaps even days before he would succumb outright.

Assuming the Spirit was responsible, I prepared another Spell.

Sending, or perhaps only guessing at the danger, the wolfman activated several techniques in rapid succession. Imbuing its claws and fangs with a dull radiance and deadly aura that prickled the survival instincts in the primitive sections of my brain.

The wolfman unleashed a blurring flurry of attacks, ripping and tearing at my hand and forearm with the savagery and desperation of a cornered animal.

Thin trails of blood began to spread in the wake of his attacks and I became aware of a burning sensation spreading up my arm. A quick glance at my combat Status confirmed that I had gained the Poisoned Condition.

Unwilling to draw the fight out any further, I tightened my grip and did my best to ignore the sensation of the bones breaking beneath my fingers. Confident the wolfman wouldn’t escape, I drew upon the last of the Mana I deemed necessary and then cast the Banishment Spell.

I felt a brief moment of fierce resistance and then the two souls were ripped apart. The form of the giant wolf Spirit was cast out from the Cultivator’s body and sent hurtling back into the circle created by the runed staves, like a grey-furred meteor.

Bereft of the Spirit’s protection, the Cultivator succumbed to the Drain Life Spell almost immediately. Stripped of his vitality and life force in only a handful of seconds.

Releasing his corpse, spared a moment to inspect my wounded arm. The cuts had inflamed edges, suggesting infection. However, it was also possible that it was a symptom of the poison or venom that had been created by the Cultivator’s Techniques.

Concentrating further, I found that I could sense trace amounts of Chi in the wounds themselves. Using my Mana to surround and then expel the Chi from my body, I felt the burning sensation in my arm begin to subside.

A handful of seconds later, the wounds themselves had completely healed over.

Confident that I was in no immediate danger, I turned my attention toward the three invaders that remained.

They had already reached the boundary of the territory and had nowhere else to go. So long as I maintained the Drain Life Spell, their deaths would be inevitable.

Withdrawing a suit of magical armour from Sanctuary’s treasury, I used my Mana to resize and shape it to my needs. It would not offer the same protection as my stone armour. However, my Evolution left my armour unfit for purpose.

Donning the magical armour, I felt a lesser authority attempt to enter the territory. Fearing the harm that would befall Gric and Sebet, or my wife Lash, should they enter the bounds of the Life Drain Spell, I blocked their authority and established a standing rule that would forbid their entry until such a time as I removed it.

Drawing the Demonic Cultivator to my general location, I was disappointed when he too proved resistant to the Life Drain Spell. However, it did not take long to identify why.

Hands clasped before his chest and legs crossed beneath him, the Demonic cultivator was furiously cycling the Mana of my Spell to fuel his Cultivation. In so doing, he was staving off the worst of the Spell’s effects. Extending his lifespan and vitality even as it was stripped from his flesh, bones and soul.

The Demonic Cultivator’s defenceless state was a testament to his precarious position. However, I was also aware that he was ever so slowly gaining ground. If left alone to cultivate, he would slowly become immune to the Spell and gain a substantial boost to his foundation in the process.

Which made me certain I would not allow him to do so.

Sparing only a moment to aim, I swung my machete down on the crown of his head.

At the last possible moment, the Demonic Cultivator snapped open his eyes and sprang to the side. Losing an inch off his scalp in the process.

A new sword appeared in his right hand and carved a line through the bracer protecting my right forearm as he tumbled away through the water.

Suppressing my anger, I willed the Demonic Cultivator back to his previous position and took another swing at his neck. However, just as before, he proved too agile and twisted out of the machete’s path while delivering another opportunistic strike of his own. Shearing off a segment of steel from the already damaged bracer on my right arm.

This time, I felt the edge of the blade scrape against my skin. Except in stark contrast to the magical steel, my arm remained unharmed.

Allowing the Demonic Cultivator a few moments to flee, I focused my attention on his sword instead.

Similar to the sword he had drawn shortly after his arrival, the sword contained a similar energy signature to the Demonic Cultivator himself. Possessing a ravenous hunger for power. However, both the sword and the Cultivator himself were a pale imitation when compared to the literal Demon I had sensed within the original sword.

Curiously, the sword appeared to be feeding upon the Demonic Cultivator’s Chi as well as the ambient Mana that was intended to fuel my Spell. Providing the Demonic Cultivator with a substantial degree of protection from the Life Drain Spell in exchange for a comparatively small amount of his Chi. However, despite its protection, the Demonic Cultivator appeared incredibly reluctant to wield the sword.

Seizing the sword with my authority, I set it aside within an isolated territory for later study.

Suddenly bereft of the sword’s protection, the Demonic Cultivator seemed to age half a century in a matter of seconds. The rapid ageing was brought to a halt when the Demonic Cultivator withdrew a strange orb with a dark marbled surface from his Storage Ring.

Attempting to seize the Storage Ring and secure its contents proved impossible. I wasn’t certain why, but I didn’t have time to dwell on the matter either.

Cracks had begun to spread across the surface of the orb, releasing a pulsing dark crimson light. Demonic energy seeped through the cracks, hungrily devouring the ambient Mana.

Before I could even think to act, the Demonic Cultivator stuffed the dark sphere into his mouth and swallowed. He met my stare with a demented spiteful glare. “If I die, I won’t go alone!” I watched his mouth form the words, but it didn’t feel right.

I had been too overwhelmed by anger to recognise it earlier, but none of the Cultivators should have been capable of speaking underwater. Most of them hadn’t even tried. Which made it all the more strange that others had and that I understood them.

Demonic energy began consuming the Demonic Cultivator from the inside, devouring his chi and inner energy with ravenous intensity and impossible speed.

Attempting to end whatever the Demonic Cultivator had planned before it could bear fruit, I took advantage of his momentary immobility and clove his body in two with my machete. Splitting him from shoulder to groyne in a single strike.

To my immense surprise, my machete shattered upon striking the bedrock. Which should have been impossible. However, I quickly realised that the demonic Cultivator, or more specifically, the thing inside of him, was to blame.

As if to prove my point, the Demonic entity within the Cultivator’s corpse clawed itself free from the left side of the body amid a bloom of gore. As the haunches of the creature came free, the Cultivator’s body was ripped inside out before forming the creature's thick reptilian tail. Easily several times the Cultivator’s original size, the bulk of its body appeared to be formed from Chi. Making it disturbingly similar to a Summoned creature rather than a living being of flesh and bone.

However, that distinction lost a great deal of meaning in the wake of what I had learned only hours prior.

Bearing an uncanny resemblance to the Lizardmen, the Demonic creature was covered in dark violet scales and had wicked spines running down the length of its back. 

<I LIVE!> The Demonic creature howled, making itself known by forcibly transmitting its thoughts into my mind. It flexed its sinewy body and lashed its tail through the water with relish. It flared its nostrils and whipped its tongue through the bloody water. <Such rich energy! I will feast well and-> It seemed to notice me for the first time and became incredibly defensive, even swimming backward several feet before appearing to find its nerve.

Which meant it hadn’t intended to communicate with me in the first place...

<I did not intend to encroach upon your domain.> The Demonic creature stated warily. <Deactivate the Formation and I shall leave...>

“No,” I replied flatly. 

I saw the creature for what it was and what the Cultivator had intended. Releasing it would make me a party to the carnage it would unleash.

<We need not be enemies.> The Demonic creature insisted. <I could be a powerful ally...> It was lying. I wasn’t sure how I could tell, only that I had absolute confidence in that fact. It would betray me, turn on me and kill me, at the first opportunity.

“No,” I repeated.

The Demonic creature was becoming increasingly unsettled and agitated. <I am not a simpering cur to be trifled with!> It hissed dangerously. A hollow threat to cover for its mounting fear. <Do not mistake my acquiescence for weakness!>

“Don’t mistake my candour for stupidity,” I countered before exercising my authority and strangling its neck with my right hand.

The Demonic entity abandoned all pretence at diplomacy and furiously raked at my armour in an attempt to fight itself free. My armour was torn apart beneath its claws like styrofoam under a hot wire. Confirming my suspicions that Demonic creatures and the Cultivation method named after them rendered magical armour pointless.

Tightening my grip, I gathered my Mana and blocked out the pain from its talons clawing at my chest and arm.

Sensing what was coming, the Demonic creature whipped itself into a frenzy.

It didn’t make any difference. Unable to fight itself free from my grip, the Demonic Creature’s seeming immunity to the Life Drain Spell likely wouldn’t protect it from what I intended.

Just by touching the creature, I could feel it feeding on my Mana. However, its rate of consumption was dramatically lower than my rate of recovery. Having witnessed Zhu Min’s training, I was aware of the fact that Daemonic Cultivators could only internalise so much stolen energy before it began doing more harm than good.

From what I had observed already, and how fiercely the Demonic creature was trying to escape, I was confident that the same principle would apply to Demons too.

Aware of the potential consequences of being wrong, I formed several barbed spikes from the ground and attempted to impale the creature to gauge its durability to conventional attack.

As I suspected, the stone proved incapable of piercing its scaly hide, crumbling beneath the impact without leaving so much as a scratch.

Unwilling to risk potential damage to an Artefact, I conjured a high-level magical spear from Sanctuary’s treasury and made a second attempt at impalement. The mana was stripped from the spearhead inches before it struck the Demonic creature’s scales, causing the spearhead to deform under the force of the impact while dealing no damage.

Forcibly injecting my Mana into the Demonic creature, I felt a profound degree of relief and satisfaction upon confirming the Demonic creature’s limits to absorb Mana. The destabilising effect caused the creature to become bloated and swollen as if suffering an allergic reaction. Inwardly, the Demonic creature was coming apart at the seams.

So it should have come as little surprise when the Demonic creature stopped fighting against the tide of Mana flooding its insides and chose to end matters on its own terms.

Back from my break / New Art / Plans for the future.

Title says it all really. (Gric and Sebet - Empty Throne

I'm back from my break, ready for the final push. I mentioned it earlier in a couple of places, but I will repeat it here. My current intention is to work toward wrapping up Ogre Tyrant within the next fifteen complete chapters.

This will involve a lot of double-checking my notes and earlier chapters to maintain general consistency. So chapters will probably take a little longer than usual when directly referencing previous events in the story. It might also make it take a little less time as well, so we will see.

I intended to come back off my break a week ago but had computer problems that have since been worked out. The short version is, a procrastinated windows update got interrupted by the power going out, triggering a whole mess of issues. I'm just glad its all sorted now.

The next release should be this coming weekend. If i think it will be later than Sat midday, I'll make a discord and Patreon public post announcing as such. That goes for all chapters in the future as well. I have this bad habit of getting wrapped up in what I am doing and not letting you guys know what's up, so I am going to work on it.

As we get closer to the end, I will probably start posting samples of different stories I am considering for my next project. No pressure to read them if you don't want to.

I have a commission in the works that will provide a visual representation of a typical Tiamite soldier and a member of Firm security forces. After that, I have a ghoulish "What if" piece planned, then I intend to have all of the remaining Daemons illustrated and potentially have them all amalgamated in a huge family portrait sort of deal.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 86 - Into the Fold - Part One {Old}

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 86 - Into the Fold - Part One

Continuing to read through my Status, I discovered several other important changes. The first thing I noticed was that my two Status sheets seemed to have combined into one. Containing entries that had belonged to both sheets.

My MP, or Mana Points, and Chi had changed to M, representing pure Mana. The value was lower than what my MP had been but the change was not a loss. 

Instinctively, I could feel that Mana was tens of times more potent and possessed a latent will similar to Chi. Leveraging my authority, I learned the underlying reason. Mana was the true source of Mana Points and Chi, which were its diluted derivatives. This somewhat explained why my two Status sheets appeared to have been combined into a singular whole.

The Mana entry was accompanied by a second change, M/s, or Mana per second. 

The potential ramifications of these two changes alone gave me pause. 

With Mana already multiple times more potent than MP, the M/s stat would allow consecutive casting while heavily investing in each Spell.

Experimentally directing the Mana out of my body and into nearby objects confirmed that it seemed to function the same as Chi. However, investing my Mana into mundane stones or plants also triggered a dramatic change from the mundane into the supernatural.

Wildflowers took on explosions of colour and grew tens of times their natural size. Leaves shimmering with otherworldly rainbows and stems dancing gently despite the absence of a breeze.

The stones glowed with an internal light, casting odd-shaped shadows over the ground that made it look like a slow-moving stream.

Observing these changes, I became aware that they were also gradually changing the plants and stones around them.

As a test, I began investing Mana into a small stone to see how much it could hold.

After reaching what I could only assume was its limit, the stone collapsed and lost its form. Disintegrating into an ambient cloud of Mana

Repeating this test several more times, I was met with the same result and could only assume that inanimate objects and materials had a hard limit on what they could contain.

Plants reacted differently. Instead of disintegrating, they expelled the excess into the air and soil where it was then absorbed by other nearby plants.

Withdrawing one of the weapons from my Storage Ring, it was obvious that the intended purpose of my Mana manipulation was to recharge the internal battery that powered the weapon. However, it came as a surprise to learn how much Mana the weapon could contain without disintegrating. Furthermore, upon reaching what I assumed would be its limits, the weapon began similarly purging its excess to the plants. With the notable exception that the plants made no signs of absorbing the vented excess.

In time, the experiments made me aware of a faint yet persistent drain on my Mana. With a thought, I identified Kwan as the source of the draining effect.

Teleporting to his location, I became confused when I couldn’t immediately lay eyes on him. Only to then realise that Kwan had grown to such an immense size that he was very nearly ALL I could see. A writhing sinewy mass of scales and flesh that extended for hundreds of feet in every direction.

And he was still growing.

Resting a hand against his scales, I could feel Kwan’s mind had withdrawn upon itself. Mentally pressing through his defences, aching waves of fatigue and indescribable pain began flooding through our connection in waves.

Gritting my teeth, I resisted the urge to shy away and close off the connection. Instead, I drew more of the pain and exhaustion into myself, pressing it down and seizing control over it.

Little by little the Mana drain began to ebb. As it did so, a mounting sense of shame passed from Kwan's mind to my own.

<Believed. Strong enough.> Kwan stated apologetically, catching me by surprise with his use of actual words in place of vague impressions.

When the transfer of Mana was brought to a complete halt, Kwan’s immense body imploded, taking on the form of a pale-skinned young man with snake-like eyes and opaque scales lining his cheekbones and brow. Clothed in expensive-looking short robes constructed from his Mana, Kwan slowly drifted to the bottom of the freshwater ocean and slumped into an exhausted heap.

Sweeping him up in one hand, I relocated us both to Momoko’s mountain and then set Kwan down on a large flat rock so he could take in the sun.

Reviewing Kwan’s Status, I became momentarily confused upon learning his information had not changed in the ways I had otherwise expected.

Kwan had gained the Mana stat but did not possess Mana regeneration. He had not lost his MP or Chi either. Furthermore, leeching my Mana appeared to have progressed his Evolution by leaps and bounds.

Strangely, Kwan had gained a Technique as well. Mortal Guise. True to the name, the Technique was what allowed Kwan to take on a humanoid form. What made it interesting, was the primary effect of the Technique. The reduction in size and changing shape was just a side effect that facilitated a faster recovery speed. A smaller size also reduced destructive potential, but that was a situational factor the majority of the time anyway.

Confident that Kwan was on the mend, I turned my attention back toward my own Status.

[Tim - Eldritch Tyrant: - ] [HP: 74/74 ] [M: 157/157* ][M/s: 2.4 ]

[Class: Eldritch Tyrant 15. +15 M.] [Exp: 75,482/1,000,000 ]
[Party: Tim’s Party] [Lash’s Mate]

[Bloodline: {Tyrant 3} +1 Willpower.] [Bloodline Progeny: Pete, Suzy, Momoko.]

[Cultivation Inheritance: {Tyrant’s Body} ]

[Strength: 30* ]

[Agility: 10 ]

[Toughness: 37* ]

[Intelligence: 14 ]

[Willpower: 23 (24) ]

[Presence: 9* ]

[(Racial Abilities: {Hide/Expand})]

[(Legacy Class Abilities: {Hide/Expand})]

[Class Abilities: {Hide/Expand}]

[Techniques: {Hide/Expand}]

[Group Synergies: {Hide/Expand}]

My Evolution had changed more than I had initially released. Not only has my Species changed, but my Class had changed as well. Relegating the former Class Abilities to the Legacy tab. My new Class, Eldritch Tyrant, possessed no Abilities. However, the level appeared to contribute to my maximum Mana at a one-to-one ratio.

My new Species possessed the same Abilities as before but had also gained two more. Eldritch Conduit, and Arcane Syphon.

[ (Racial Ability: Eldritch Conduit.): Your connection to the Well of Souls allows you unparalleled control over the flow of Mana. Enemy {Spells} and {Mana Infused Attacks} are {Drained} of their {Mana} as they approach the Eldritch Tyrant’s location. The rate of {Mana Drain} is determined by the Eldritch Tyrant’s {Maximum Mana} (0.157 M/s). ]

[ (Racial Ability: Eldritch Battery. ): Your presence alone can swing the tide of the fiercest battles, lending power to embattled allies and subordinates. Allies and Subordinates may draw upon the Eldritch Tyrant’s {Mana} to bolster their own. The maximum range of the effect is determined by the Eldritch Tyrant’s {Maximum Mana} (157 feet). The {M/s} that can be drawn is reduced beyond half of the maximum range of the effect (78.5+ feet). ]

After taking a few minutes to process what I had read, I became somewhat confused. The Eldritch Battery Ability explained how Kwan had managed to draw on my Mana to fuel his Evolution and Cultivation. However, he should not have been able to draw on my Mana at such an extreme range. It blatantly defied the disconcertingly specific limits of the Ability.

Silently contemplating the matter for the better part of an hour, I came up with a few theories that might explain it. The simplest explanation was that Kwan's Bond to me provided a sort of backdoor access to the Ability. Another possibility was that my realm was skewing the calculated distance for the Ability.

Sensing a new draw on my Mana, I became aware of changes taking place in the periphery of my vision.

The trunk and branches of Momoko’s peach tree had begun gently waving to and fro, notably out of sync with the wind that swept across the peak.

Concerned for Momoko’s well-being, I concentrated my will to cut off the flow of Mana. However, the drain on my Mana halted abruptly of its own accord, catching me off guard.

My confusion turned to outright shock when I realised the peach tree had begun faintly radiating Mana in place of Chi. Even more shocking, the Mana wasn’t mine. The Mana was similar, even familiar, but it wasn’t the same.

Indulging my suspicions, I inspected Momoko’s Status and discovered that her two sheets had merged, just the same as mine and that she had gained the Mana and M/s stats. Likewise, her Species had changed to Eldritch Tree Spirit, awarding her the same Racial Abilities I had gained earlier.

Concerned that such spontaneous Evolution might cause Momoko to experience the same distress as Kwan, I reached out for her with my authority and drew her onto the palm of my right hand. She appeared a fraction of a second later, eyes closed and sitting cross-legged in a meditative pose. 

Momoko’s eyelids shot open and she sprang to her feet, eyes darting between me and her tree in a panic.

Then, she collapsed.

Horrified, it took me several moments to realise Momoko, at least her human...Spirit, half, had not possessed Mana when she arrived. Now, she did, and it had laid her out like a sledgehammer to the head.

I could feel the Mana building inside of her, feel her skin burning.

The trunk of Momoko’s peach tree groaned, its branches twisting like serpents as the ground began to tremble and crack beneath my feet.

Thunder boomed and dark storm clouds began to gather overhead.

Drawing Momoko to my chest to shield her from the rain, I cast a wary eye toward the sky.

Lightning arced from the clouds with furious intensity, homing in on my location with unnatural accuracy. The lightning rods diverted the lightning, just as they were intended to do. However, the forking bolts of lightning were becoming increasingly aggressive. Seemingly reaching for Momoko like the claws of a ravenous beast.

Staring into the heart of the storm, I became convinced that something was guiding the fury of the storm beyond the original scope of the Tribulation.

“How...unexpected...” A soft male voice murmured in amusement. His words cut through the rumbling thunder with impossible ease, ensuring they were heard without cancelling out the roars of the Tribulation. “Perhaps it is the will of heaven? Hehehe,” the voice commented in amusement. “Little brother, let us not be enemies. Simply surrender the Divine Treasure into my hands, and I may consider taking you as an outer disciple.”

“Divine Treasure?...” Even without asking, I knew that he was referring to Momoko and her peach tree.

“Come now, little brother, such a profound Cultivation resource would be wasted on one of such little talents. Surrender it to me now, and I may prove merciful,” the voice sneered condescendingly.

“No,” I replied firmly and gently set Momoko down against the base of her peach tree and out of the rain.

The rumbling thunder and patter of the rain were swept away by an oppressive and malevolent silence.

“Little brother...you will regret this,” all traces of humour were gone, replaced by indignation, rage, and sadistic anticipation.

Using my authority, I relocated myself to Kwan’s freshwater ocean and waited.

Only a handful of seconds after my arrival, my authority alerted me to the invasion of another Monarch. A fraction of a second later, a tall lithe young man in fine emerald robes and carrying a golden straight-edged sword appeared in the water before me.

His long hair was ornamented with expensive-looking beads and trinkets. Each of which radiated an aura matching what I would have expected from a powerful magic item from the other system.

The invader stared back at me with cold arrogant eyes, their dark intensity carrying the promise of violence. “Little brother,” the young man purred dangerously, unaffected by the water surrounding us. “I am a merciful deity. Throw yourself down at my feet and beg, and I will make your end pain-” His brow knit together in confusion.

Biting the inside of my cheek, I cast the Empowered Spatial Anchor Spell.

The young man released a concentrated wave of Chi carrying the Thunder Affinity.

I felt his Chi probe at my surroundings in an attempt to measure his Cultivation against my own.

The young man physically recoiled as if he had stuck his bare hand against a cast iron stove, drawing his Chi back with lightning speed. Eyes wide and face deathly pale, he hastily raised his sword into a defensive stance. “Ah, b-big b-brother,” the young man stammered, his sword wavering to and fro with the uncontrolled shaking of his arm. “Th-this one in-intended n-no offence!”

I felt a pulse of Chi emanate from what appeared to be a jewel-encrusted silver hand mirror tucked into the sash of his robe. 

Before the intended effect could activate, the Chi was immediately dispersed by the Empowered Spatial Anchor Spell.

The young man froze.

“W-We c-can t-talk th-this o-over!” The terrified Monarch pleaded, releasing his sword and slowly floating backward through the water with both hands raised above his shoulders. “B-Big B-brother! T-Take th-these h-humble t-tokens a-as c-compens-sation f-for m-my r-rudeness! I-I d-didn’t kn-know th-the t-treas-sure b-belonged t-to b-big b-brother!”

“Treasure?...” With a thought, I teleported the Monarch back to his original position. Cold fury burned through my veins. “She. Is. My. DAUGHTER!” 

Mana surged from my core, slamming into the Monarch’s spiritual defences in an unrelenting tide. 

“W-Wai-” The Monarch began to gasp, losing his voice as my Mana overwhelmed his internal energy and ravaged his spiritual Foundation. One of the Monarch’s treasures activated, seemingly of its own accord, transforming the Monarch’s body into some kind of monstrous hybrid with characteristics of both Beast and man. However, the presence of my Mana, or perhaps the Monarch’s damaged Foundation, had caused the transformation to be critically unstable.

Beyond the deformed bones and skinless flesh, the Monarch’s very being was collapsing upon itself. The energy provided by the treasure fed into a chain reaction that was consuming and drawing power from the other treasures carried on his person.

Thrashing in pain and lacking the cultivation to eschew his need for oxygen, the Monarch’s final moments were spent desperately gulping down water in the hope of finding air.

With one final mewling shudder, the Monarch grew incredibly still.

Anticipating the danger, I cast Barrier but otherwise remained where I was.

The Monarch’s body exploded.

Blinded by the intensity of the explosion, I felt the abrupt absence of the water that had, until only a moment prior, surrounded me. I felt a mighty gale whip and lash at my skin, burning and then freezing before relenting seconds later.

My eyes recovered and I found myself standing a handful of feet from where I had been standing only moments before. Two deep furrows in the stone and silt marked my passage.

Distant rumbling drew my attention to towering waves racing across the barren ocean floor, devouring the open ground with the insatiable hunger and ferocity of a wild Beast.

Bracing myself for the impact, I tore massive sheets of stone from below the ocean floor to redirect and absorb the inevitable impact.

Anchored in place, when the waves hit, I remained unmoved. Weathering the torrent of debris as it pelted and crashed into my body.

Unharmed but still mildly disoriented, I waited for the silt and debris to settle before exercising my authority to leave. Just as I was about to leave, three intruders appeared a short distance from where I was standing.

Failing to recognise their faces or clan markings, I flooded the surrounding water with my Mana.

Disoriented, the invaders were slow to react. Too slow in recognising the danger.

Leveraging my control over the water, two of the intruders began to drown. Flailing about and clawing at the water as they made a break for the surface.

While I was following the movements of the two drowning men, the third disappeared.

He was still floating more or less where he had arrived. However, he had concealed himself using some form of Technique, making him invisible.

With a thought, I sent a fusillade of small stones in his direction, Investing every pebble with the Thundering Strikes Spell and as much mana as they could hold.

At first, nothing happened. The stones would seemingly strike the open water and then detonate, sending shards whizzing in all directions. It wasn’t long before streaks of blood began trailing through the water, carried in the wake of the shards. Crimson blooms announced the hidden intruder’s end. Blanketing the water in a cloud of blood as the Cultivator’s lifeless mangled body drifted to the ocean floor.

Those who had fled toward the surface were still a long way from reaching the surface, even with their head start.

Pulling on the Mana-infused water in their lungs, I began dragging them back.

One of the intruders had withdrawn a large flying sword from a Storage Ring, leaving his companion for dead in his haste to reach the surface. However, the sudden inertia left his sword arcing off into the distance and well beyond his reach.

The water surrounding the closest intruder flashed and sparkled as trinkets and baubles were withdrawn from a Storage ring and activated in a desperate bid for survival.

Forming a spear from the nearby stone, I launched it at his centre mass. Until I was certain what I was dealing with, I saw no reason to move within arm’s reach.

Three feet from the intruder’s chest, the stone spear became coated in a thick coat of ice and promptly shattered into dozens of pieces.

I threw another spear and it met the same fate as the first.

Changing my approach, I drove the two invaders toward one another.

The sudden arrival of over a dozen armoured intruders forced me to change priorities.

Unlike the trio that had preceded them, the latest arrivals were quick to regain their composure, erecting an Array almost immediately after their arrival. With the first Array erected, the group hurriedly set about raising numerous others. Intending to create a Formation, it was unclear whether it was primarily intended as a defensive or offensive measure.

Chaos erupted within the ranks of the armoured cultivators as a new Monarch invaded my realm and suddenly materialised in the centre of their defensive Array.

Wearing only a breastplate for protection over long flowing robes, the female Monarch dodged and weaved through the flurry of attacks with astounding speed and grace. Narrowly avoiding spear thrusts and elemental Techniques from all directions while taking in her surroundings.

Despite appearing completely on the defensive, the armoured Cultivators surrounding the female Monarch began dropping out of the fight.

One by one, their movements began to slow, their attacks losing their accuracy and ferocity as Death Chi eroded the Cultivators’ life force. Although it was invisible to the naked eye, the Death Chi being projected and trailing from her palms stood out like burning torches to my enhanced senses.

As the armoured Cultivators slowed, the Monarch took her counterattack one step further, slicing at the exposed sections of their armour with her long sharpened fingernails. Blood erupted from the wounds, clouding the water and obstructing her surroundings, further hampering the flagging assault of the armoured Cultivators.

Seemingly no longer content to remain surrounded, the female Monarch began dancing around them instead.

One by one, the armoured Cultivators fell. Dying from a combination of blood loss and corroded life force. However, as the final armoured Cultivator was on the verge of succumbing to their injuries, a third Monarch invaded my Realm.

Time seemed to slow and the two Monarchs locked eyes with one another.

The Array erected by the armoured Cultivators collapsed and the two Monarchs leapt away from one another, flying back twenty feet through the water before firmly planting their feet on the ocean floor.

The newest arrival wore long dark silk robes embroidered with arcane sigils sewn from gold and silver threads. Dark-skinned and bald, with the lower half of his face concealed by a silk scarf, he carried a massive gourd upon his back. The gourd was stoppered with a large cork and plastered with so many overlapping talismans that it almost appeared to have been made of paper mache.

The two Monarchs continued staring at one another for a handful of seconds longer. Neither side willing to make the first move and potentially expose themselves to a counterattack.

“Gu Lin, you are here for the celestial treasure as well?” The dark-skinned Monarch asked with a lilting sing-song accent that reminded me of a student I had shared classes with and had immigrated from India.

The female Monarch, presumably Gu Lin, inclined her head slightly in affirmation. “I am,” she replied softly, narrowing her almond-shaped eyes slightly as she studied the other Monarch’s face. “I do not think it is in either of our best interests to face one another directly, Jayesh. What say you?”

The male Monarch, Jayesh, furrowed his brow slightly for a few moments before relaxing again and nodding in agreement. “It would be most unwise. The Supreme One has been eyeing my realm most covetously of late, and I am most certain his gaze is not limited to my Realm alone.”

Gu Lin frowned with concern, squeezing her dark-painted lips together in distaste. “I have thwarted several plots in the past few months intended to weaken my position.”

“As have I,” Jayesh replied grimly. “It is to be expected. The Destroyer does not wish to allow a challenger to rise, after all.”

Gu Lin looked as if she was about to reply, but stopped abruptly as yet another Cultivator invaded my Realm.

The latest arrival was not a Monarch. However, his arrival triggered a visceral reaction in the two Monarchs that had been peaceably conversion only moments prior. Immediately putting them both on high alert and even showing minor signs of distress.

The Cultivator’s combat robes were black and grey with a grinning crimson skull embroidered on the chest. His long dark hair was tied back into a thick braid that reached his calves. The end of the braid had the crossguard and blade of a dagger. No doubt intended as an unconventional backup weapon.

“You will leave this Secret realm at once or incur my master’s wrath,” the new arrival stated with a smirk and released a burst of Chi as a show force.

I identified the two Monarchs' source of fear almost immediately. The new arrival was a Demonic Cultivator. While it was unclear whether he was in the same league as the two Monarchs, it didn’t appear to matter.

“We intend no disrespect to your honoured master,” Gu Lin replied diplomatically, bowing her head ever so slightly. “A powerful Formation has us trapped. We cannot withdraw until it is located and disabled.”

The Demonic Cultivator scowled with displeasure and withdrew a token from his robes. “If this is a trick. My master will make an example of you,” he hissed venomously. “Before the end you will beg for-” He stopped mid-sentence, his expression hardening as he glared at the wooden token. “You appear to be telling the truth,” he conceded with obvious disappointment. “You will locate this Formation, disable it, then leave,” he commanded imperiously. “If you impede my search for the Transcendent Treasure in any way, you will face my master’s wrath!”

As the Demonic Cultivator returned the wooden token to his robes, another wave of invaders entered my Realm.

Three dozen in all, the newcomers were armed with a wide range of exotic weapons and wore wolf-fur cloaks over brigandine armour. The sight of the Monarchs and the Demonic Cultivator gave them pause. But that was all.

Without saying a word, the wolf-cloaks launched their attack.

Jayesh and Gu Lin retreated in different directions, abandoning the Demonic Cultivator to face the brunt of the enemy force on his own.

Far from intimidated, the Demonic Cultivator’s lips split into a demented grin. “A pack of dogs wish to bite a dragon?! Then come! Face my flames and curse your mothers for your birth!” Extending his right fist toward the enemy, he released a surge of Chi that materialised into a jet of boiling water. No doubt, he had forgotten we were fully submerged in water.

One of the wolf-cloaked Cultivators raced ahead of his fellows and erected a barrier of ice by swiping his hook-bladed spear through the water and releasing a stream of Chi.

Annoyed that his attack was thwarted, the Demonic Cultivator changed tactics, assuming a fighting posture and materialising a sickle-bladed sword from his Storage Ring. “Face the dragon’s fangs if you dare!” He snarled, eager for the fight and grinning all the while.

Three of the Cultivators flew out from behind the wall of ice and launched lengths of spiked chains through the water and toward the Demonic Cultivator. Pulsing Chi through the chains, the Cultivators activated a Technique that caused the chains to begin writhing and darting like serpents.

The Demonic Cultivator’s limbs were bound and drawn tight together, leaving him vulnerable to attack as five more Cultivators rushed forward for the killing blow.

“Fools!” The Demonic Cultivator released a stream of Demonic Chi infused with Fire Affinity. The chains began to glow, rapidly changing from a dull maroon to cherry red before being torn apart and cast aside entirely. Limbs freed from the spiked chains, the Demonic Cultivator narrowly dodged the first Cultivator’s sword while knocking the spear of the second Cultivator aside and burying the blade of his sword into the chest of the third.

Demonic Chi roared to life within the Demonic Cultivator’s sword and in less than a second, its victim was reduced to a lifeless husk.

Exercising my authority, I stripped the sword from the Demonic Cultivator’s hand and banished it to an isolated territory.

Caught entirely unawares by the sudden loss of his weapon, the Demonic Cultivator took a heavy blow to the shoulder from the enemy’s polearm. Before he could react, the other Cultivator on his flank stabbed his sword cleanly through the Demonic Cultivator’s back and out his abdomen.

Shrieking in pain, the Demonic Cultivator withdrew another sword from his Storage ring and wrenched himself free, leaving a trail of dark ichor trailing from his injuries. Before he could regain his composure, the wolf-cloaked Cultivators continued their attack. Furiously harassing him from one side and then the other.

All the while, their surviving fellows established a not-so-distant perimeter. Planting runed staves into the silt and adorning them with painted wolf skulls. Before I could determine their purpose, my authority announced the arrival of yet another invader.

Only this time, they weren’t human.

A spectral wolf roughly the size of an African elephant appeared within the circle created by the runed staves.

Judging by the lack of reaction from the Demonic Cultivator and the two Monarchs, it appeared they were not aware of the Spirit’s presence.

The giant wolf Spirit raised its snout skyward, releasing a long mournful howl as it began channelling massive volumes of Chi into the circle. 

Smaller spectral wolves began materialising from skulls mounted atop the runed staves. Taking on a semi-physical presence, they began racing toward the Demonic Cultivator with fangs bared and a ravenous glint in their eyes.

“ENOUGH!” The Demonic Cultivator snarled. Releasing a massive surge of Chi, he moved with impossible speed, delivering what looked like hundreds of sword strikes against the spear-wielding Cultivator in a handful of seconds.

The Cultivator’s companion attempted to deliver a second backstab while the Demonic Cultivator was distracted. However, his actions did not go unnoticed, earning a swift decapitation as the Demonic Cultivator shifted his attention from the ruined remains of the other Cultivator and onto him alone.

The two Monarchs shared a meaningful look but remained silent and appeared content to watch and see how things would play out.

I was finding it increasingly strange that the Monarchs, the Demonic Cultivator and the wolf cloak Cultivators appeared unaware of my presence.

The wolves closed the last few feet and launched themselves at the Demonic Cultivator with their jaws opened wide.

With the same inhuman speed, the Demonic Cultivator eviscerated their bodies. Cleaving through their phantasmal flesh with effortless ease.

With their corporeal forms destroyed, the wolves shifted back into Spirits and began floating back toward the Cultivators and their ring of totems.

Just as the Spirits began their retreat, the Demonic Cultivator seized the closest of them and drained the Chi from its body. Destroying the Spirit and recovering his Chi reserves in one 

The reaction was nearly instantaneous. The Spirit disintegrated as its internal energy and Chi was infected and then drained by the Demonic Cultivator.

The giant wolf Spirit raised its hackles and snarled, conjuring another wave of wolf Spirits and restoring the corporeal form of those that remained from the previous batch.

It didn’t take a genius to see that the next assault would fare no better than the first. Nor was the fifth any better than the fourth. Yet the giant wolf Spirit continued throwing its lesser kin at the Demonic Cultivator with seeming abandon.

For their part, the wolf cloak Cultivators had begun making signs with their hands. Unfortunately, I wasn’t familiar with that dialect of signing, so I had no idea what they were saying. Only that they were repeating the same words or phrases over and over again.

Without warning, five of the Cultivators raced into the ritual circle alongside the sixth wave of wolves. Their left hand clenched before their face with the index and middle fingers raised in line with the bridge of their nose.

The two Monarchs shared another meaningful look and nodded, apparently having come to an agreement.

Gathering his Chi, Jayesh widened his stance, squatting low to the ground and mimicking the same hand motion as the wolf cloak Cultivators. He performed the gesture with both hands, placing one hand before his chest and the other thrust forward toward the Demonic Cultivator.

Gu Lin began slowly gliding forward through the water, her body quickly becoming translucent like glass and then completely invisible to the naked eye. As Gu Lin’s body faded, so did her presence as a Cultivator.

It was only through my authority and ownership of the territory that I remained aware of her general movements and location. If we were outside my Realm, I would have lost track of her entirely.

Three of the five Cultivators were cut to bloody ribbons the instant they came within range of the Demonic Cultivator’s blade. A fourth was cleaved from navel to shoulder an instant later, but his death slowed the Demonic Cultivator’s movements just enough for the fifth Cultivator to slap his free hand against the Demonic Cultivator’s back.

The Demonic Cultivator’s body suddenly grew stiff and sluggish, allowing the wolf cloak Cultivator to draw a curved blade and brutally slash open the enemy’s throat.

The wolves surged forward in a tide of fangs and fur, biting, ripping and tearing at any part of the Demonic Cultivator they could sink their teeth into.

A crimson haze flecked with fragments of flesh and dark silk clouded the water.

“ENOUGH!!!” The Demonic Cultivator screamed, flooding the immediate area with his Demonic Chi and clearing the water. His body was bloody and ragged. Savaged flesh weeping blood over exposed bones and tendons, his face mangled beyond the point of recognition. “YOU WILL SUFFER FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!!!”

The Demonic Cultivator’s Chi began warping and mutating his body, twisting and reshaping his bones, muscles and sinews into a dark-scaled reflection of a Lizardman.

Still clutching the curved knife despite being thrown about by the Demonic Cultivator’s Chi, the wolf-fur Cultivator cast a glance back toward one of his fellows.

When they first arrived, I hadn’t noticed any significant differences between them. However, comparing these two specifically, I realised the one within the circle wore a wolf teeth necklace bearing only four fangs, while the one outside of the circle wore a necklace with over two dozen.

The wolf cloak Cultivator outside of the circle hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

Setting his jaw with grim determination, the Cultivator cast down his dagger and drew the hood of his cloak over his head.

The instant the wolf-head cowl was drawn over the Cultivator’s head, the giant wolf Spirit lost its cohesive form and streamed into the Cultivator’s body, melding their energies together temporarily before consuming and displacing the energy of the Cultivator outright.

The Cultivator’s cloak and hood began melding themselves into his body, fusing with his flesh and armour. Just the same as the Demonic Cultivator before him, the Cultivator's form warped and twisted into a human-Beast hybrid, growing to more than twice their original height in the process.

“Pathetic!” The Demonic Cultivator sneered with contempt and the faintest trace of fear.

The wolf-thing bared its claws and released a savage howl in reply before fearlessly leaping toward the enemy.

“SEAL!!!” Eyes glowing with golden light Jayesh thrust his left hand forward. In the same instant, a gigantic golden hand descended from the sky, its palm centred directly over the Demonic Cultivator. 

The Demonic Cultivator staggered as if struggling under an immense weight for a moment before being driven to his hands and knees. His flesh and scales smouldered under the golden light, releasing a foul ichor into the surrounding water.

With the Demonic Cultivator proving incapable of defending himself, the wolf-thing began ripping and tearing into his scaly flesh with savage abandon. Like an animal, the wolf-thing made a point of ravaging the abdominal cavity, exposing and spilling the Demonic Cultivator’s internal organs before ripping them apart to maximise the pain and shock of its victim.

Screaming in pain and fury, the Demonic Cultivator struggled to mount even a token defence, all but paralysed by the Monarch’s powerful Technique.

I felt a faint spike of Death-infused Chi and watched as one of the wolf-cloak Cultivators began slowly drifting to the ocean floor. Although I could not see her, my authority informed me that Gu Lin was standing beside the corpse of the Cultivator.

She killed four more of the Cultivators in rapid succession before they managed to take notice of what was happening. However, it was now too late.

Spread out as they were, the wolf-cloak Cultivators were picked off one by one. Denied the opportunity to regroup and present a more effective defence than wildly swinging at the open water in hopes of guessing her position and landing a lucky strike.

Then, Gu Lin began moving toward me.

With no doubts as to her intentions, I formed a stone machete from the bedrock below my feet and prepared the Drain Life Spell.

Almost immediately, Gu Lin released a large burst of Chi and raced back toward her original position opposite Jayesh.

“Is it done?” Jayesh grunted through clenched teeth, his Technique seeming to take a greater toll than I had been expecting.

“The Wolf-Blood Mercenary Formation is broken...” Gu Lin replied hesitantly. “However, the Formation holding us prisoner is under heavy guard...The guardian appears content to observe our actions. However, it became agitated by my approach and...I was forced to retreat...”

Jayesh scowled. “It is concealing its strength while standing in full view...This is not good. Not good at all...”

“The strength of its current aura would place it firmly in the Transcendent Imperial Soul realm...” Gu Lin hissed anxiously.

Jayesh’s concentration wavered, causing the massive golden palm to flicker and dim briefly before regaining its strength. “Transcendent Imperial Soul realm? This is...The Celestial Perfected Soul?!...” Blood erupted from his mouth. “What sins have I committed in a past life to deserve such Karma?!”

“That is only its current strength...” Gu Lin hissed bitterly. “It was reacting to my presence and hostile intentions...matching and exceeding my strength to maintain its advantage...It is almost certainly stronger still...”

“This treasure...I see it now for the dark temptation it is,” Jayesh lamented. “Were it not so that my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren should pay the price for my untempered desires...” His eyes grew wide with fear. “No...Nononono!”

“Jayesh?” Gu Lin sounded concerned, which surprised me. Even if they were not overtly hostile toward one another, I had assumed their position in the rankings would have eliminated any possibility of something approximating genuine concern for someone who should have been their deathly rival.

“I did not expect to become trapped!” Jayesh barked bitterly in distress. “My eldest and his sons guard the well-”

The lapse in Jayesh’s concentration weakened his Technique, allowing the Demonic Cultivator a brief window of opportunity to deliver a counterattack against the wolf-human hybrid CUltivator. However, instead of launching a counterattack, the Demonic Cultivator withdrew a hidden treasure from his Storage Space.

The treasure bore the appearance of an onyx marble sphere with cracks that radiated a pulsing dark crimson light. Positively saturated with Demonic energy that seemed disturbingly self-aware, the dark marble sphere launched itself into the Demonic Cultivator’s ravaged abdominal cavity and fused with his spine.

New power flooded into the Demonic CUltivator’s body. His wounds began knitting themselves back together, healing faster than the wolf-thing could tear them apart.

With a vicious swipe, the Demonic Cultivator tore the jugular from the wolf-thing’s neck, sending dark scarlet blooms trailing through the water.

Attempting to retreat while desperately clutching at its throat, the wolf-thing lost several more chunks of flesh as the Demonic CUltivator pressed its newfound advantage.

“I. Can’t. Hold. Him!” Jayesh warned, straining to form each word with what concentration he could spare.

As if to prove his point, the Demonic Cultivator took on speed, redoubling its efforts in ripping the wolf-thing apart piece by bloody piece.

“Do what you can,” Gu Lin replied with a tremor in her voice. “I...I will try to return the odds to our favour...” Still invisible, she began tentatively floating closer to the ongoing battle.

“Don’t!” Jayesh cried, his concentration wavering for an instant before he could regain control of himself.

To my surprise, I realised his mouth had not moved when he spoke. After reflecting for a moment, I realised that their entire conversation had taken place without either of them opening their mouths.

Was it some kind of telepathy? If so, why could I eavesdrop on them?

The Demonic Cultivator plunged his claws into the wolf-thing’s chest and ripped out the pulsing quivering mass of its heart. Opening his jaws wide in anticipation, the Demonic Cultivator wrenched the heart toward his mouth. Snapping his toothy maw shut, he wrenched his head viciously to the side, shredding the arteries before swallowing the heart whole.

The mutilated remains of the wolf hybrid began to shrink. The wolf cloak tumbled from the Cultivator’s dead body and disintegrated into chunks of rotten hide and fur. 

With its host body dead, the giant wolf Spirit began climbing out of the dead Cultivator’s mangled body. It had lost most of its former lustre and was now a mere shadow of its former self. With its demise all but assured, the wolf Spirit bared its fangs in a final show of defiance.

Opening his bloody tooth-filled maw, the Demonic Cultivator stalked after the Spirit with malevolent glee burning in his eyes. However, his amusement turned to alarm and fury as Gu Lin struck his right forearm.

Sparing only a moment to stare at his amputated and rapidly atrophying right arm, the Demonic Cultivator seethed with rage. Swiping at the seemingly empty water with his powerful tail and the claws on his left hand produced no results. The Demonic Cultivator’s movements were explosive and vicious but were easy to read thanks to the intense resistance applied by Jayesh’ Technique.

Losing what little of his composure remained, the Demonic Cultivator began gathering his Chi for a Technique of his own.

Whatever the Demonic Cultivator intended, it quickly went awry. Losing control over his Chi and internal energy, they took on a life and will of their own.

Two powerful souls came into direct competition for control, fiercely trying to suppress and consume the other before they could do the same. Instead of growing weaker, the conflict only served to increase their strength, albeit at the significant cost of their stability.

With both souls deteriorating at a rapid pace, I realised the danger too late.

The two souls collapse into one another, all the while violently rejecting and attempting to dominate the essence of the other.

For the briefest of moments, the Demonic Cultivator’s scaly reptilian face twisted into an expression of despair. Then, he exploded.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 85 - Might Makes Right - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 85 - Might Makes Right - Part Two

I read the notification several times just to be certain. Contrary to previous Evolutions, this notification did not present me with a choice. It also didn’t provide a description of the effects I stood to lose or gain from the Evolution.

Unable to dismiss or move the notification, I could either accept the Evolution or resign myself to lose the majority of my vision.

Without warning, that thin illusion of choice was stripped from me as well as a timer appeared and began a countdown that would automatically ‘Accept’ the Evolution.

Bracing myself against the inevitable, I watched the timer countdown the final few numbers until the notification disappeared.

For a moment, everything went dark. I could feel my bones, muscles and tendons running like water as my skin tore itself apart, knitted itself together and was torn apart all over again. There was no pain, just the unsettling awareness of being altered in real-time.

As my vision returned, I felt someone pressing in on my conscious mind from the periphery. 

Expecting Gric or Sebet, I immediately raised my guard after they failed to identify themself.

I could feel the unidentified intruder in my mind. Somehow, they had gained a foothold in the periphery and were able to maintain it despite my best efforts to drive them out. However, even with the foothold, they made no attempts at breaking out.

“It’s a simple procedure-” The voice of the older man caught me unawares and I realised I must have accidentally opened a new file on the tablet.

Warily turning my attention away from the intruder in my mind, I was momentarily taken aback by the altered proportions of my hand.

With the tablet as a basic reference, my hand and fingers appeared to have lengthened by up to a full fifth of its former size.

Looking over the rest of my body, I learned that the elongation of my limbs and general profile had reduced the thickness of my bones by roughly the same degree. Returning my body to proportions I hadn’t possessed since first arriving in this world. However, I still had gills, webbed fingers and toes, and thick sections of calcified hide.

“-you certain it doesn’t feel anything?” Eliza asked, her voice barely above a whisper and filled with doubts.

The invader within my mind stirred, drawing my attention away from myself and the recording. Strangely, this increased scrutiny only seemed to agitate it.

“This procedure has been performed countless times,” the older man sneered contemptuously. “Century-long studies and peer reviews have confirmed that ‘twitch’ is a side effect of the anaesthesia and of no consequence.”

I felt the invader briefly strain against the barrier in my mind before retracting itself again.

“It’s a simple procedure-” The voice of the older man repeated.

Glancing down at the tablet, I was surprised to find that the video file was repeating itself. My right thumb had drifted from the far side of the tablet and was hovering over the far left of the progress bar. 

In my distracted state, I must have accidentally reset the video.

I had been distracted by the changes to my body before, so I hadn’t paid much attention to the video's contents. This time, I found it impossible to look away.

The grey-skinned child was laid out and strapped down on a large metal table. 

The recessed drains on the surface of the table and the array of surgical tools beside the table brought unsettling memories of the time I had visited the hospital morgue while on Earth.

Eliza’s right hand stiffly entered the frame from the right side carrying a large syringe containing an unidentifiable mercurial liquid. As she brought the tip of the needle toward the grey-skinned child’s neck, the child’s cheek and brow twitched, causing Eliza to hesitate.

“Are you certain it doesn’t feel anything?” Eliza asked quietly, her hand trembling and the tip of the needle less than an inch from the child’s throat.

“Women...” The older man huffed dismissively. “This procedure has been performed countless times,” he sneered contemptuously, snatching the needle from Eliza’s hand. “Century-long studies and peer reviews have confirmed that ‘twitch’ is a side effect of the anaesthesia and of no consequence.” The older man callously jabbed the needle into the child’s throat and depressed the syringe. “See? There is nothing to it.”

The child spasmed briefly, straining at the restraints before growing deathly still.

“Compound one-seven-three dash five-four has proven ineffective,” the older man announced with mild disappointment before turning on Eliza. “If you are incapable of performing even the most menial of tasks, perhaps I should transfer you to a different department?” He threatened. “There is no shortage of candidates to take your place.”

The perspective provided by Eliza’s glasses drifted down to the floor, momentarily providing an unobstructed view of the older man’s I.D. badge.

[ Elis Montgomery. ]

Beneath his name were more of the strange symbols, which was strange since Eliza and Kaine’s badges didn’t have these symbols.

“Nothing to say for yourself?” Elis sneered. “Fine, gather your things and report to HR for your new assignment. I have no use for such a spineless coward in my laboratory!” He snapped in a self-righteous huff.

The video ended with Eliza’s gaze firmly locked on her feet.

Mulling over what I had just witnessed, an involuntary twitch in my hand opened another file deeper in the folder.

It was another video file. 

Eliza was staring down at a tablet she was holding with both hands. The contents were a jumbled mess but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Do you ever think that maybe...Nah, never mind,” a strangely familiar male voice began to ask before abruptly aborting the attempt self-consciously.

Eliza looked up from her tablet and toward the source of the voice. The change in perspective revealed that she was sitting at what appeared to be a breakroom table, while the person who had spoken was standing beside a sink and nursing a large mug with both hands.

The man was wearing the same strange armour I had found in the security wing of the facility and that was advertised in the strange promotional video from earlier. His helmet was set on the bench behind him, revealing his dark tanned skin, brown eyes and near-black hair. He was clean-shaven, but his dark hair cast his neck and jaw in something close to a five o'clock shadow.

“Do I think what?” Eliza demanded with a surprising degree of intensity, catching the man off guard.

He stared back at Eliza for a few moments in surprise before returning to stare at the contents of his mug. “That thing they have us sending through the course every few weeks...You ever get the feeling that it’s learning a little too quickly?”

Eliza’s focus briefly returned to her tablet before returning to the man again. “Imprinted knowledge is what we are testing for...” She hedged with an air of anticipation in her voice.

“I know that...” The man replied and rolled his shoulders uneasily. “It’s just, sometimes when I am feeding it prompts...It will anticipate the next step...” He glanced at Eliza and then scowled, although it was unclear why since Eliza herself wasn’t visible in the video. “I know armour and weapon maintenance is meant to be part of that imprinted knowledge shit. I’m not an idiot.”

“Sorry!” Eliza apologised, “I wasn’t doubting you. I swear.”

“Hrmf...” The man huffed irritably. Gradually his expression changed, becoming troubled. “I tried to trip it up...gave it the assembly instructions out of order...” He admitted uncomfortably. “At first, it did like it always does. Just going through the motions, you know?”

Eliza nodded.

“Then it stopped...” The man gulped heavily. “It looked at me and I could see the thoughts going through its head. Like it was trying to decide if I had noticed...And what it was going to do about it...”

“What did you do?” Eliza asked quietly.

“What do you think?” The man replied with a hint of hysteria, his hands shaking violently and spilling a dark liquid over the side of his mug. “I played it off like nothing had happened and kept going through the list.”

“You didn’t tell Moburn or the security chief?” Eliza asked hesitantly.

“Of course, I told them!” The man snapped, slamming his mug on the table, spilling more of the dark liquid, and revealing the name engraved into the chest piece of his armour. Until this moment, it had been hidden from view behind his arm, but now that he was leaning over the table, it was in full view.

[ Kaine ]

“But the damned recording doesn’t show shit. Just me telling it to do something out of order and it waiting for the next set of instructions...” Kaine ran an armoured hand through his short dark hair and released a manic bark. “I nearly got put on review for that!” Abandoning his mug, he retreated to the counter and crossed his arms defensively over his chest. “I know what I saw...” Kaine muttered.

“I believe you,” Eliza stated with absolute confidence. 

Kaine looked surprised.

“I’ve been noticing some inconsistencies when comparing progress against the older reports...” Eliza explained, hastily tapping at the tablet before showing it to him. “See?” The encryption or whatever it was that made the contents of the tablet in the video unreadable prevented me from seeing what she was talking about, but Kaine didn’t appear convinced.

“I don’t get it,” Kaine admitted, shaking his head.

“The progress,” Eliza urged, pointing to the tablet again. “Look again and tell me that isn’t suspicious.”

Kaine shrugged apologetically and shook his head again.

“It’s too even and consistent,” Eliza explained heatedly. “You don’t get results like this unless someone is skewing the data...” She sighed and tapped at the tablet again before pointing at it instantly. “There are signs this might have started as early as eight hundred cycles ago...shortly after the second-gen trials started...”

Kaine’s face paled and it took him a few moments before he could look away from the tablet. “But that would mean...”

“It’s been faking it for a long time...” Eliza agreed uncomfortably. “It’s just that it has gotten better at it over time...”

“How has no one else noticed this?” Kaine croaked. “Have you watched the recordings from the gen one lab?! They had to scrub everything and still couldn’t stop their experiments from escaping into the testing grounds...It nearly brought an end to the whole-” He stopped abruptly and a look of realisation dawned on his face. “Oh...”

Eliza nodded. “With the stakes being what they are with the war and all, it makes sense that no one would want to look too closely...”

“But that means...” Kaine’s brow knit together and he took on a deeply conflicted look in his eyes. “Why hasn’t it tried to escape like the gen one experiment?”

“It probably can’t...” Eliza replied uncomfortably. “The gen ones were just altered Tiamite mana constructs, to begin with. It was only a matter of time before they slipped the restraints binding them to the labs and went on a rampage. The Tyrant project is different. It’s bound to the facility itself. It literally can’t leave the facility without one or more of the director's authority.”

There was drawn-out silence between them and Kaine grew increasingly troubled before the video ended abruptly.

Surprised, I watched as my thumb moved off its accord and tapped at the screen and a new video began playing.

Kaine was standing in the same room as the last video but appeared to have aged four or five years and had noticeable wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. His armour was scratched, dented, and spattered with blood, dirt and other grime. There was a faraway look in his eyes that made it seem like he wasn’t quite all there.

“We were jumped by one of the gen ones today...” Kaine croaked dryly. “Lucus and Daus were in pieces before we even knew it was there...” He gulped dryly and stared at nothing in particular for several long moments. “A hundred and eighty-three deployments into the testing grounds without incident...” He stated grimly. “Then, this...”

“I...I watched the recording...” Eliza admitted meekly, averting her gaze as Kaine’s eyes darkened and drew toward her.

“Then you saw what happened...” Kaine said, his voice carrying an edge of hysteria. “You saw what he did?!”

“It can’t have been easy watching your friends-” Eliza began to reply but was abruptly cut off.

“Friends? Those fuckwits weren’t my friends!” Kaine snapped angrily. “Just some blood-hungry shit-heads who signed so they could kill shit without getting imprisoned for it,” he spat with disdain. “What I’m asking is, did you see what the Tyrant did?!”

Eliza made no reply.

“He saved my fucking life!” Kaine swore emphatically. “That THING had me dead to rights! I should be dead!”

“The Tyrant could have been following orders...” Eliza countered hesitantly. “For all their faults, the collars have been shown to work on just about everything...”

Kaine stared at her for several long moments, his right eye twitching as he shook his head incredulously. “You don’t get it!” Kaine barked savagely. “The Tyrant saw that thing coming and watched those fuckers die! Do you get it? He just stood there and watched!”

“I...I’ll watch it again,” Eliza promised in a conciliatory tone. “Just calm down, I think-” The perspective provided by her glasses suddenly shifted toward the door on the far side of the room. “Someone’s coming! Shh!”

The video ended abruptly and my hand began moving of its own accord again. Thoroughly unnerved by its autonomous actions, I felt a profound sense of relief and a small measure of confusion upon discovering I still had complete control and could stop the movement with a single thought. However, the moment I eased that infinitesimal degree of concentration my hand began moving again, opening another file and playing another video.

Freaking out, I redirected my focus toward the invader within my mind. Scanning their presence for even the slightest signs that they might be responsible for the loss of my bodily autonomy.

“I don’t see the point of this,” an unfamiliar male voice whined.

Three armoured figures in a loose formation were trailing behind the armoured giant from the promotional video in a field of five-foot-high grass. The perspective of the video seemed to be recorded from a drone flying a little over seven or eight feet in the air and trailing behind the group.

“Shut it!” Kaine hissed, his voice distorted by the confines of his helmet.

Condescending laughter arose from the other figures.

“You afraid of a few monsters, Kaine?” One of them snickered maliciously.

“Probably pissed himself,” another jibed obnoxiously, earning more laughter from the other.

“I said SHUT IT!” Kaine growled. “The proximity alarm could go off and we wouldn’t hear it because of your whining!”

“Pfft!” one of the armoured figures waved his left arm dismissively, causing his rifle to sway dangerously close to the figure to his right.

“Hey!” Kain barked, identifying himself as he knocked the other man’s rifle away.

“Oh cry me a river princess,” the man replied dismissively. “The safety’s on.”

“Yeah!” crowed the other man in agreement with the first. “Besides, the armoured’ stop a few shots easy!”

The armoured giant’s helmet turned ever so slightly to look to the right of the group. Unfortunately, the angle of the recording left the source of the giant’s curiosity a mystery. However, given the contents of the previous video, I could make an educated guess as to what it might be.

While the smack talk continued, displaced sections of the tall grass marked the approach of the coming danger. When it came within ten feet of the armoured figures, it stopped.

The armoured giant had tracked its progress and whatever it was, the giant was staring directly at it.

I noticed the giant’s hands had begun to tremble and remembered what Eliza had said about the collars during the previous recording. I realised Kaine was right, the giant had not only known about the danger but had waited to see what would happen. Perhaps even as a deliberate attempt to have its captors killed.

Preoccupied with keeping the other two figures in his immediate line of sight, Kaine appeared unaware of stalks of grass silently collapsing behind him as he sidestepped a poke from the other man’s rifle.

The three men all seemed to notice the falling grass a few moments later at roughly the same time.

“Daus? I...I don’t feel sss’grrrd...”

The man that had been harassing Kaine with his rifle, staggered, dropped his rifle and collapsed into several dozen small bloody pieces.

“THE FUCK?! LUCUS?!” The second man, presumably Daus, screamed and began to raise his rifle. However before he could fire a single shot, there was a blur of motion and his head disappeared from his shoulders.

Something struck Kaine from behind, knocking him down to the ground.

A small Goblin-like creature stepped out of the grass. Its skin was a mottled brown and green that blended well with the grass and dirt, while its eyes were black as midnight. The Goblin carried a large scythe but appeared completely unaffected by its size and weight. It made a point of ensuring it had the armoured giant’s attention as it hooked the blade of its scythe under Kaine’s neck and planted a foot in the square of his back. However, just as it opened its mouth to speak, and revealed gums packed with shark-like teeth, it was driven to silence as it found itself staring down the stocky barrel of the armoured giant’s gun.

“No,” the armoured giant rumbled, the simple word accentuated by a thundering roar and several glowing projectiles that ripped through the Goblin’s body.

Thrown off its feet, what remained of the Goblin landed in a bloody heap. Far from afraid, it appeared confused. However, its attempts to vocalise the source of its confusion failed before they even began. The glowing projectiles had so thoroughly perforated its body that the Goblin managed only a single wet gurgle before growing deathly still.

Scrambling onto his back, Kaine drew the pistol from his belt and swung it one way then another as he searched for the enemy. Unaware that the strange Goblin was already dead it took him the better part of a minute of frantic searching before working up the nerve to rise to his feet.

Noticing the Goblin’s corpse for the first time, Kain fired several shots into its body in rapid succession. Even with its head completely obliterated, Kaine refused to lower his gun, keeping it trained on the Goblin while awkwardly kneeling and fumbling for his fallen rifle.

The armoured giant turned away.

Already on edge and spooked by the sudden movement, Kaine turned his rifle and pistol on the armoured giant. Breathing hard for several long moments, he slowly lowered his weapons after realising the armoured giant appeared to be ignoring him.

Kaine looked down at the bloody remains of the two men and the video came to an end.

Expecting my hand to move on its own again, I readied myself to try and trace what was responsible.

Sure enough, my fingers adjusted their grip and my thumb began moving toward another file.

As I had feared, tracing the control led back to the unidentified intruder in my mind.

<We. I. You.> Three words were spoken by three similar yet slightly different voices. Disturbingly familiar voices.

The first voice belonged to the armoured giant from the recordings. The second belonged to the manifestation of the Heart Demons I had purged in the shrine. And the third voice...it was mine...

In a very real and thoroughly disturbing sense, they were all me. The armoured giant was my clone, or I was his, and the Heart Demons were the collective emotional toxicity I had expelled during the cleansing ritual.

But why were they in my mind?

The intruder stirred,

<Us.> The voices corrected as the intruder effortlessly breached my defences. <Make whole.>

“The new collar will guarantee such an incident is not repeated.” The voice of the older researcher Elis claimed with an air of absolute confidence. “As I am certain this demonstration will prove.”

“You certainly sound confident...” A gruff male voice replied.

“Sir, I really don’t think this is a good idea,” Kaine warned in a hoarse whisper.

To my horror, my eyes moved of their own accord, turning to look down to where the tablet had landed on the ground.

The angle of the recording showed Kaine standing before two older grey-haired men.

The head researcher Elis appeared to have aged a decade or two since appearing in a previous recording but carried himself with the vitality and confidence of a much younger man. Dressed in a pristine white lab coat over a formal suit, it suggested he was trying to impress someone important. Although it was currently unclear who that may be.

The man beside him wore a military trench coat over a nearly complete suit of armour. Forgoing a helmet, he wore a military cap bearing an insignia that looked strikingly similar to a clenched fist. His weathered face and deeply set wrinkles were somewhat at odds with his stiff movements. Suggesting he was not nearly as comfortable in the armour as his experience might suggest.

“Explain yourself,” he demanded curtly, steely grey eyes narrowing dangerously at Kaine in a show of distrust.

“Sir,” Kaine hissed, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep a respectful tone and demeanour. “I don’t believe the collar will be sufficient to-”

“You what?” Elis sneered with an amused chuckle. “Belief is for the feeble-minded! This is science! And I can guarantee the new collar will prove more than sufficient to guarantee the subject’s compliance to even the most self-destructive commands!”

The man I presumed to be Kaine’s superior nodded in agreement, apparently far more willing to trust Elis over Kaine.

“Sir-” Kaine repeated but was immediately silenced by the raised hand of his superior.

“I won’t hear any more of your unfounded rumour-mongering,” he snapped. “We will discuss this later AFTER the presentation for the directorship is concluded and not a moment before. Am I clear?”

Kaine lowered his eyes and clenched his fists. “Crystal...” He replied grimly and retreated toward the source of the recording.

“They still won’t listen...” Eliza commented quietly, earning a sullen nod from Kaine as he took up a position at her side, causing the perspective of the recording to pan toward the wider room.

The room was divided into two sections. The first section was occupied by a large gathering of scientists and security personnel. The second contained a small team of security guarding a single scientist and keeping watch on the grey-skinned giant which was sedated and restrained on a large table.

A wall of reinforced glass divided the two sections but had a normal-sized door that allowed access between them.

The scientist on the other side of the glass was fitting a large steel collar around the giant’s neck.

“They still think those security measures will be enough to hold him...” Kaine muttered dryly, shaking his head in exasperation. “He’s designed to take in mana and shrug off physical attacks...I thought these eggheads were supposed to be smart!”

“The Tyrant is supposed to be stupid,” Eliza whispered back nervously. 

“He’s far from stupid...” Kaine interjected with a shudder. “I just can’t understand how no one else can see it!”

“They can’t accept the possibility that he’s been able to fool them. Their egos won’t allow it!” Eliza replied stiffly. “And without witnessing things firsthand, it's too easy to explain away anything that they don’t want to find...”

“You’ve mentioned it before...” Kaine sighed defeatedly.

A long silence passed between them and it looked like the presentation was just about ready to get underway.

“I was thinking about retiring...” Kaine said quietly, surprising Eliza. “I just...What we are doing here...It doesn’t seem worth the cost. What’s the point of defeating the Tiamites if we sink to their level?”

Eliza remained silent, her gaze firmly fixed on the armoured giant behind the glass.

There was a blur of movement on the far end of the chamber and the view through the glass became obstructed by a crimson haze.

Thick red droplets began running down the glass.

A panicked cry came from the other side of the glass and was followed by bright flickering lights and a low-keening whine.

The flickering and whining came to an abrupt halt as something struck the glass before picking up again less than a second later. However, a muted wet crunch brought it to an end for good.

The room fell deathly silent.

Without saying a word, Kaine took hold of Eliza’s shoulder and began pushing her along the wall and toward the nearest exit. 

A loud impact drew Eliza’s attention toward the glass and caused her to stumble.

Large cracks had appeared upon its surface and were rapidly spreading toward the periphery.

A scream rose amidst the crowd of researchers and scientists.

A dark shape struck the opposite side of the glass, creating new fissures and causing the existing cracks to spread further.

“Security breach!” The warning came from one of the security teams and was quickly repeated by the others.

The security officer closest to the glass on the right side by the wall grabbed a recessed lever and pulled it hard.

A massive slab of steel fell from the ceiling covering the wall of glass.

Kaine lifted Eliza to her feet, practically dragging her from the room and into the corridor. “Cmon! We need to move!” He barked, his voice barely audible above the panicked cries of the scientists.

Eliza looked back over her shoulder as they fled down the corridor and stumbled as a massive shadow was cast around the corner.

The armoured giant escaped its confinement.

The high-pitched whine of weapons fire and terrified cries of the scientists and security personnel chased them down the corridor.

Kaine brought them both to an abrupt stop and then pulled Eliza through an open doorway into what looked like a breakroom. “Get into the storeroom!” He ordered, insistently pushing Eliza toward a door on the left side of the room before throwing himself to the opposite wall and taking cover behind the corner of a counter.

Eliza fumbled with the handle but managed to get the door open after a few increasingly tense moments of effort.

The small room on the other side of the door was packed with shelves carrying small containers and sealed packages. Contrary to my expectations, it was not a room at all, but a small storage space recessed into the wall.

Even if Eliza were to press herself hard up against the shelves, it was doubtful she would be able to close the door again. However, Eliza surprised me by dropping low to the ground and revealing a space beneath the shelves.

After she crawled into the open space at the bottom of the storeroom, Kaine dashed across the room and closed the door behind her. Leaving Eliza alone with only the faint light cast by her glasses for the company as muffled screams continued filtering under the door. 

The chaos beyond the door continued and I took the opportunity to probe the gestalt consciousness that had invaded my mind.

I could feel it watching the events unfold on the tablet with what I interpreted as grim acceptance. However, upon discovering my divided attention, it released a flare of aggravation and frustration.

<Learn.> They demanded. <Understand.>

The door to the storeroom slid open and someone hurriedly pressed themselves inside. However, due to the lack of space, they were unable to close the door behind them.

With the door now open, I could see two other people had taken shelter in the room beyond. Hiding behind the table and chairs in the middle of the room.

“It’s coming!” One of the new arrivals hissed in a panic, earning a hysterical series of whimpers from their companion.

Sure enough, heavy footsteps could be heard drawing closer, causing Eliza’s glasses, the source of the recording, to shake with increasing intensity.

The footsteps came to an abrupt halt and Kaine hunkered down to hide behind the cabinets as best as he could manage while clutching at his energy rifle. Despite his earlier claims that it would be useless against the giant’s natural defences, he didn’t seem capable of letting it go either.

A thundering boom shook the room and was followed by the screeching of distressed metal.

One of the new arrivals released a muffled scream.

A massive grey hand shot past Eliza’s hiding place. A muffled crunch brought an abrupt end to the muffled screams. Moments later, grey arm and hand retreated with a pair of broken bodies in tow.

Wet crunching and slurping sounds echoing from the corridor left no doubts as to what fate befell the bodies of the scientists and I felt a wave of nausea stir in my guts.

The grey hand returned, now spattered with blood and drool. It fumbled through the room, tapping and flicking seemingly at random as it progressed through the room, narrowly missing Kaine in his hiding place.

After reaching the far wall, the hand retreated. A few moments later, a series of increasingly muted footsteps could be heard moving away from the room.

Looking toward the scientist taking shelter in the storeroom, Kaine raised one hand and vehemently shook his head while mouthing a warning.

<It’s still out there.> The translation came from the gestalt presence in my mind. Catching me off guard. <He knew...> There was a flicker of surprise.

As time passed the scientist cowering against the shelves grew increasingly agitated. Then, without warning he dashed the door.

A thundering crash echoed from the hallway beyond the door and bright crimson blood splattered across the middle of the room.

Eliza stifled a gasp with her hands and stared across at Kaine.

The giant’s massive grey hand began pawing at the floor and walls of the room, crushing and otherwise destroying any furniture it encountered.

Kaie was forced to abandon his hiding place and engage in a deadly game of cat and mouse while trying to make as little noise as possible. However, as the hand began to stray toward Eliza’s hiding place, Kaine levelled his gun at the giant’s arm and opened fire.

Flinching in reaction to the surprise attack, the giant viciously swung its arm toward the opposing wall, narrowly missing Kaine as he desperately dove deeper into the room.

A pulsing blue orb flew across the room and an explosion erupted from the hallway.

A deafening roar briefly knocked out the audio from the recording and the grey arm retreated from view, revealing a ragged hole in the wall opposite Eliza’s position.

Before Eliza could react, Kaine rushed forward and dove through the hole in the wall.

“-VER HERE! HEY!” Kaine shouted, his voice badly distorted by the damage to the recording device. He punctuated each word with a whining burst of gunfire.

The giant roared in anger and began stomping down the hallway.

Shakily leaving her hiding place, Eliza froze as the giant’s massive grey feet passed by the hole in the wall. However, when the giant continued on its way, she released a ragged sigh of relief and turned toward the door.

Then, she froze.

The floor and wall opposite her in the hallway were slick with blood and viscera. The shattered pulverised remains of the scientist were pooled in a crater just outside the door.

Stifling a whimper, Eliza slowly made her way forward and gingerly traversed the crater.

More gunfire and explosions had erupted from deeper in the complex and Eliza began determinedly running in the opposite direction.

During Eliza’s flight through the twisting maze of corridors, it became increasingly apparent that there would be few, if any survivors from amongst those who had attended the demonstration. Like herself and Kaine, many had attempted to hide in the nearest boltholes they could find. Only to have the giant-

<Us. I. We.> The gestalt presence interjected, interrupting my train of thought.

Irritated, it took me a few moments to realise that the presence had lessened quite considerably from before the video had begun. Even so, its control remained just as potent. Able to do as it will unless I contested the action directly.

My musings abruptly stopped as Eliza left the all-to-familiar quarantine chamber and entered the laboratory.

The gestalt presence seated with hatred at the reveal of the corpses suspended within the glass tubes. Or at least that is what I had thought. However, it quickly became apparent that the hundreds of corpses displayed throughout the room were not the subject of their focus. It was the team of scientists gathered at the far end of the chamber.

Discovering she was not alone, Eliza hurriedly took cover behind one of the preserving vats, using the machinery at its base to conceal her presence.

“I WILL NOT RETURN A FAILURE!!!” Elis shrieked with rage, striking one of the other scientists hard across the face with an energy pistol and knocking them to the floor. “I AM INITIATING IMMORTALIS PROTOCOLS! YOU CAN COME WITH ME, OR-” He levelled the gun at the scientist’s head, “-YOU CAN DIE HERE!!!”

Cowed by the show of violence, the scientists collectively muttered their agreement.

“Fantastic!” Elis snarled with a demented grin and waved the injured scientist toward a section of machinery out of Eliza’s line of sight. “Now, get in the genesis chamber Douglas, and there will be no further need for this unpleasantness!”

The injured scientist hesitated. However, as Elis aimed with the pistol, he stiffly did as he was told.

With everyone distracted, Eliza began skirting around the edge of the room, using the machinery and glass tubes for cover until she achieved an angle that allowed her to see what Elis was doing.

The bullied scientist had been backed into a huge metal vat covered in a diaspora of bare wires and arcane sigils. Once he was clear of the opening, the door slammed shut, restricting vision into the vat to a single viewing port near the top of the door.

“You should feel grateful, Douglas. This will no doubt constitute the greatest scientific achievement of your entire career!” Elis cackled maliciously and threw the large lever beside the console.

The bare wires surrounding the vat crackled and arced, discharging what I had assumed to be electricity. As the sigils flared to life, mournful cries filled the air and disembodied spirits began circling the vat.

Five tesla coils set in a crown atop the vat began sending arcs of electricity at the spirits. However, instead of striking them or passing through, the spirits were bound in webs of electricity and dragged toward the coils. 

As each spirit made contact with one of the coils, they released a pitiable shriek and disappeared. The shrieks of the spirits were accompanied by bright flashes of light from within the vat and the pained screams of the scientist trapped within.

After several minutes, Elis reset the switch triggering the vat door to open.

Smoke billowed from the open door and the imprisoned scientist staggered out into the open. Tripping over his own feet, the scientist fell to the ground. Throwing his arms out to try and break his fall, his skin burst in contact with the concrete, like a broken water balloon.

Fine gold and silver dust spilled out of the scientist's clothes, spilling across the ground. Within a handful of heartbeats, the dust began to disappear. Evaporating like spilled water on a midsummer day.

“Typical,” Elis spat disdainfully. “Even in death, you’re useless...” He pointed the pistol at another scientist, “Choy, you’re next!”

Like a frightened herd of sheep, the other scientists retreated, leaving Choy to fend for himself.

Whimpering and with tears streaming down his face, Choy reluctantly entered the vat.

“Don’t worry! I’m sure the calibration process won’t take more than a few more attempts,” Elis chuckled, smiling broadly as the door to the vat was locked firmly in place. “If we had begun human trials sooner, ah, well...No time for regrets now!” He pulled the lever.

One by one, the scientists were coerced into the vat. Each met the same fate as the first. Managing to take only a few steps before disintegrating into the gold and silver powder.

“Good data...” Elis muttered distractedly, manipulating keys and dials with his free hand. Seemingly unaware of Eliza who was slowly sneaking up behind him with a metal pipe. Without warning, Elis spun on the spot and fired the pistol, sending a short burst of energy projectiles racing through the air and toward Eliza.

Eliza’s pained screams as she tumbled to the ground announced that at least one of the projectiles had found their mark.

“You think I didn’t see you skulking in the shadows?” Elis scoffed, turning his back on her in a show of open contempt. “I am not good with faces, but it’s clear you are from a different department. Otherwise, you would have known about the cameras...”

Huffing and hissing through her teeth, Eliza raised a shaky hand covered in blood. “Y-You’re in-insane!”

Elis stopped what he was doing and stared down at her contemplatively. “Insanely brilliant, perhaps,” he countered dismissively before returning to his work. “I always suspected the Tyrant program would fail, you know. The whole thing was far too inelegant a solution from the beginning. If only the directors had shared my vision...Ah well...” He shrugged and sighed in a way that made it clear he no longer thought it mattered.

Using a nearby section of machinery, Eliza slowly dragged herself to her feet.

“Your tenacity does you credit,” Elis commented distractedly. “However, it will accomplish nothing.” He grinned and pumped his free hand in triumph. “I knew it was possible!” He cackled with a manic grin while staring greedily at a screen set into the control mechanism. “I would offer you the chance to join me, but I don’t think you deserve it,” Elis snickered condescendingly before retreating into the vat.

At the last possible moment, just before the door finished closing, Elis threw away the pistol.

Following the path of the pistol, Eliza began taking a handful of unsteady steps toward it before seeming to change her mind. Staggering back toward the console, the perspective afforded by her glasses revealed a three-dimensional rendered image bearing a passing likeness to Elis.

Shirtless, with the physique of a classic Olympian statue and bearing Elis’ face, it was the wings that identified it as a SubSpecies of Angel.

Dismissing the image with shaking hands, Eliza began frantically accessing and altering a series of encrypted files.

Fleeting images of scientists and security I.D.s suggested that she was accessing personnel files, but the encryption made it impossible to be certain.

Replacing the image on the screen, Eliza stepped back just in time to stagger clear of the console as the vat door opened, revealing Elis's transformation.

Now more than ten feet tall and swollen with muscle, the remnants of Elis' clothes hung in tattered rags from his hips and shoulders, leaving nothing to the imagination. Eight ephemeral wings of shining gold and silver shivered at his back, casting his mane of platinum blonde hair in waves of alternating light that made it look like it was flowing like water.

Too busy admiring himself, Elis knocked Eliza down without even registering her presence. “Absolute perfection...” He breathed with unabashed arousal.

Whimpering from the pain, Eliza did her best to stifle herself to avoid drawing attention. However, it proved to be in vain.

“Still alive?” Elis chuckled. “Well, we can change that. Just-” He paused, his arrogant expression swept aside in an instant.

A powerful quake rocked the laboratory, dislodging machinery attached to the ceiling and sending it crashing to the ground.

Despite having less than a second to react, Elis managed to nimbly leap to safety with seemingly effortless ease.

Fortunately for Eliza, when Elis had knocked her down, he had inadvertently sent her clear of the falling debris.

Without saying a word, Elis waved his right hand and opened a Dimensional Breach. Casting one last irritated glance at Eliza, he stepped through the Breach and disappeared.

Three more quakes rocked the lab in rapid succession and then a claxon began to peel out in alarm.

The door to the vat slid shut.

Eliza retrieved the pistol from where Elis had discarded it and aimed it at the vat. 

The door to the vat slid open a few moments later, disgorging a fresh wave of smoke.

The pleading cries of an infant echoed from within the vat.

Slowly approaching the vat, Eliza did her best to keep a firm grip on the pistol. Locating the source of the noise, she levelled her pistol at the flailing form of a small grey-skinned baby that was wriggling and flailing on the floor.

Aiming the pistol at the child, Eliza’s finger slowly depressed the trigger but stopped just shy of firing. Already shaking from blood loss, she was struggling to bear the pistol’s weight. Without saying a word, she lowered it again and retreated from the vat.

Returning to the console, she set aside the pistol and shakily began manipulating the screen.

The encryption made it nearly impossible to tell what she was doing. However, when the image of a portal appeared alongside a three-dimensional rendering of Earth, it began to make sense.

The infant in the vat was me.

<Us. You. I...> The gestalt presence was little more than a shadow of what it had been after first announcing its presence, and I now understood why. The boundaries of its presence had been eroding from the very beginning, bleeding its thoughts and memories into my mind. Unaware of them until this moment, I could feel the memories drifting in the periphery of my mind. Many of them were little more than tangled masses of intense emotions. However, others possessed an almost impossible degree of clarity and detail.

A bright flash from the tablet drew my focus back to the video just in time to watch Eliza set aside the glasses and begin the audio recording that had led me to discover her body. Lab coat stained a dark crimson with her blood and her skin deathly pale, the tablet tumbled from her blood-slick fingers as she uttered her final words.

Expecting the video to end, I was surprised when it continued playing for a considerable while longer.

Just as I was prepared to close the video, signs of movement appeared on the edge of the screen.

“Who dared to change...” Elis’ voice filtered through the recording. He sounded tense and incredibly nervous. “Come on! Stupid piece of garbage!” He grumbled bitterly. “What?! Locked out?! NONONONONO!!! ” Elis cried angrily, accentuating each denial with the sound of abused machinery and electronics. 

When the tirade came to an end, there was a flicker of light and then the recording fell silent once more. A few moments later, the video came to an end and I was left staring at my reflection cast in the inky black image cast on the screen.

Having gradually overcome my aversion to deliberately inspecting my reflection, in no small part thanks to Lash’s unwavering support and affection, my focus fell upon the newly discovered inconsistency almost immediately.

The sclera of both my eyes had turned black as pitch and the irises were corona of jagged pulsing sapphire and emerald energy.

Confused, it only now occurred to me that I had not reviewed my Status to confirm what the Evolution had altered.

Opening my status, I felt the last vestiges of the Gestalt entity dissolve into my mind as I read the first entry at the top of my status screen.

[ Tim - Eldritch Tyrant ]

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 85 - Might Makes Right - Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 85 - Might Makes Right - Part One

No Matter which questions I asked, Orphiel failed to provide anything close to a satisfactory answer. After hours of trial and error and with close to nothing to show for it, I let Orphiel go.

Retrieving the tablet from my bedside table with my authority, I gently thumbed the cracks that marred the right side of the screen. To my astonishment, the cracks slowly receded, restoring the screen into a single piece of glass. As my surprise faded, I could feel the screen drawing on my MP and changing it into the foreign mana.

After about half an hour of draining my MP the last of the cracks were gone. However, the screen continued draining my MP.

Based upon what I assumed was a progress bar in the centre of the screen, it was using me to regain its charge.

After being stored in my Storage Ring, the tablet had been unresponsive, so I took this as a favourable sign.

Hours passed by and I slipped into a state of deep meditation as a means to pass the time.

A notification of Faine’s triumph and the abrupt appearance of a large wooden chest broke me from my meditation. 

Just as I had suspected, the change in the rules of Conquest and Invasions allowed my Overseers to recruit new Overseers into the fold.

While the potential recruit deliberated the recruitment offer, I used my authority to determine how much time had passed. I was intrigued to find it had been only a little longer than twenty-four hours since Faine had been given the promotion to Overseer. Which meant he had used an Artefact to claim an entire floor with a single challenge.

Frustrated at myself for losing an entire day I could have otherwise spent with my family, it didn’t take long for me to become distracted again.

This time, the distraction came from the abrupt arrival of the new Overseer, Gilkt.

Standing just over six feet tall, Gilkt was bare-chested and wore a breechcloth embroidered with copper and silver coins that overlapped one another like the scales of a fish. Which made sense aesthetically, since the gills on Gilkt’s neck and chest, combined with his webbed fingers and toes, and thin spiked teeth marked him as an aquatic monster.

Pushing his long seaweed-like hair from his face, Gilkt stared up at me in awe and a noteworthy level of discomfort. His skin was slick with a translucent slime and it only served to enhance his overall nervous disposition. Opening his mouth to speak, Gilkt made several odd choking noises before I realised what was wrong.

With a thought, I flooded the isolated territory with water until the water rose just past my waist. When Gilkt didn’t respond favourably to the influx of fresh water, I tapped into the realm’s limited reserve of salt water instead. For good measure, I conjured a roasted Swamp Lurker tail from my Storage Ring to accelerate his recovery.

After several tense minutes of waiting, Gilkt appeared to be on the mend and was viciously working his way through the last shreds of meat on the tail. Treading water, he rose to the surface, although only far enough to raise his head above water. “I give thanks for the bounty,” Gilkt said with gratitude. “May the tides favour your kin.” His voice sounded like creaking timbers, shifting in pitch as he spoke.

Unsure what to say, I resolved myself to simply nod and acknowledge the gesture of goodwill instead.

“I have given no cause to earn this right, yet I must...” Gilkt croaked, his voice lowering several octaves as he tore a cord bearing strings of golden coins from his waist and thrust them above the surface. “The Leviathan draws closer to the final kinhome...The Leviathan is beyond our strength...I beg...Shelter them and we will serve for all of our days!” Gilkt lifted the coins higher with both arms outstretched in earnest supplication. “I will give anything! Everything! I beg!”

“Keep your coins,” I replied in what I intended as a calming tone.

Gilkt’s face fell and he did as he was asked.

With Gric still on the mend, and Sebet already committed to several other high-priority tasks, my options were limited. “I will offer aid. I want that to be clear,” I clarified to avoid further misunderstandings.

Gilkt’s eyes grew unnaturally wide in surprise, his eyelids drawing back all the way and giving him an increasingly alien appearance.

“One part of the problem lies in the lack of available living space,” I explained while running through potential solutions in my mind. “Freshwater makes you incredibly sick, and I don’t have much salt water to offer beyond what we are swimming in at this very moment. The other part of the problem lies in locating your people.” I paused for a moment to allow him time to internalise what I had said. “Do you know which floor of the Labyrinth you are from?”

Gilkt looked at me with confusion. “I have heard this word spoken by surface traders...I do not know what it means...”

“I thought that might be the case...” I sighed and altered the surrounding terrain to provide a landlocked plateau.

Gathering my MP I Summoned a projection of the Asrusian Regent, Francis Asrus.

“Majesty.” Francis Asrus's projection bowed respectfully, taking care not to bow too deeply. “How may I be of assistance?” He cast a curious glance at Gilkt from the corner of his eye but did not presume to speak further.

“I need a wand of Teleportation. Preferably one capable of penetrating deep into a Labyrinth,” I replied candidly. “This is a time-sensitive matter and is related to the acquisition of additional Overseer titles for the campaign.”

The Regent’s eyes flashed with determination. “I have such a wand within my office,” he replied decisively. “I can lay hands upon it in less than a minute from my current location.”

“See to it,” I commanded and dismissed the projection.

Using my authority, I teleported Trask onto the plateau the Regent had just vacated. “I have a task for you, assuming you are willing?”

“Alwayss,” Trask rumbled aggressively, assuming a lower centre of gravity and sweeping his thick crocodilian tail across the plateau as he surged into the water. Trask could not breathe underwater but he was capable of holding his breath for hours, possibly even days, at a time.

“You will accompany Gilkt to his home via Teleportation,” I motioned to Gilkt to make it clear who I was referring to. “Remotely viewing your location, I will open a Breach to evacuate Gilkt and his people. Depending upon the threat present in the location, you will then initiate an Invasion or retreat to Sanctuary. In the event of an Invasion, I will reinforce your position with Summons and Spells. Otherwise, you will be on your own. Understood?” I removed Gilkt’s Overseer title and gave it to Trask, replacing it with Trask’s Lord title.

“Trask undersstandss,” Trask replied, sending thick ripples in all directions from the deep rumbling of his voice.

Nodding in a show of approval, I used my authority to fetch Francis Asrus and the wand of Teleportation that was assumedly now in his possession.

“Majesty,” Francis Asrus bowed respectfully, mirroring the movements of his earlier projection before withdrawing a dark shaft of wood from beneath his cloak. “As promised,” he raised the wand in both palms.

“Your cooperation will be remembered,” I stated formally and accepted the wand.

Francis Asrus made a complicated expression that was difficult to read. “We are all in this together, Majesty. I am only doing my part.”

Of course, such an act would be counted as an important contribution. So it wasn’t difficult to understand how he might be motivated to temporarily surrender such a valuable item. It was also quite likely that he had recognised what was happening, and that assisting in the recruitment of additional Overseers would result in more territories being acquired at a faster rate.

However, it was also possible he was not aware of Gilkt’s former Overseer status and was just acting to acquire political capital. This made more sense, considering Gilkt and his people would probably possess enough members to warrant their own Faction, entitling them to become signatories and gain territories.

After sending the Regent back to his office, I explained how the wand worked and passed it off to Gilkt.

Activating the wand as a test run, Gilkt managed to Teleport onto the rocky plateau after a couple of minutes of concentration. On the second attempt, he managed to bring Trask along with him.

When Gilkt Teleported for the third time, I felt him and Trask leave the boundary of my Realm.

Remotely viewing Trask’s location, I found him standing in waist-deep water in a dimly illuminated grotto. Surrounded by desperate faces and a ring of bristling spears, tridents and bidents, Trask faced the danger with impeccable stoicism.

“Stop! This is not an enemy!” Gilkt croaked earnestly, throwing himself between the nearest spear points and Trask.

“Explain! Outcast!” One of the larger warriors, a full head taller than Gilkt, demanded, poking the tips of his trident dangerously hard into Gilkt’s midsection.

“I have found an escape!” Gilkt cried, pressing forward and causing the points of the warrior's trident to draw blood.

Horrified, the ring of warriors drew back a handful of steps in fear, pointing at the rapidly expanding blooms of blood in the water and releasing panicked cries of alarm.

“You have doomed us!” The warrior croaked in alarm, backing away from Gilkt with a mixture of revulsion, hatred and terror.

“I save us!” Gilkt countered viciously, “I find our escape!” He knocked the warrior’s bone trident aside and jabbed the wand at the warrior’s pale throat. 

The confrontation was brought to a momentary halt as the walls of the grotto shuddered and churned the water.

Everyone grew deathly still.

“Tyrant...” Trask had been unphased until this moment, staring back at Gilkt’s people with indifference and contempt. However, he was now on full alert.

Possessing a Racial Ability that made him functionally invisible to most aquatic predators, Trask’s sudden concern was not something to be taken lightly.

Gathering my MP I forced open a Dimensional Breach near his location.

The grotto shook again, this time dislodging small pockets of loose stone from the walls and ceiling.

Trask slowly turned his head one way and then another before settling upon a large pool of water being given a wide berth by the locals.

The walls, ceiling and floor shuddered again, this time with more than ten times the intensity, dislodging large chunks of stone from the walls and ceiling.

Panic erupted from the local civilians and warriors alike, but it quickly became obvious that they were trapped and had nowhere they could run to.

“SSILENCE!!!” Trask roared, his guttural voice booming through the caverns of the grotto drawing all eyes toward him and the Breach. “THISS! ISS! ESSCAPE!!!” He pointed emphatically to the Breach just as another cavern was rocked by another quake.

“FOLLOW!!!” Gilkt cried, waving his arms high above his head, trying to make himself heard above the panicked cries of his people as he approached the Breach.

Movement from the large pool brought a fresh wave of panic to the crowd and terrified warriors began forming a ragged defensive line, placing themselves between the pool and the retreating civilians.

Releasing a savage roar, Trask began stalking toward the pool, pushing the warriors aside to clear a path. Just as he reached the pool, dozens of slick grey tendrils rose out of the water and groped at the air, coiling like eyeless serpents. Thin mucus-covered hairs uncurled from the tendrils, waving to and fro as if carried by the wind.

Before Trask could act, another tentacle and a new host of tendrils slowly swarmed into the grotto.

The grotto shook again and this time elicited a wailing cry from a child deeper in the caverns.

The tendrils flailed with excitement, surging through the air and toward the child.

Trask swiped at the air, causing the hair-like protrusions to fizzle into dust and the tendrils to spasm weakly as they fell to the water.

Another quake hit the grotto, only this time it was more intense than all the others combined and showed no signs of stopping.

The tentacles thrashed in pain and rapidly withdrew back into the pool, sloughing dead flesh as they scraped against the bare stones.

Trask gave chase without a single moment of hesitation, teeth bared and eyes burning with the thrill of the hunt.

The pool gave way to a twisting labyrinth of flooded caverns faintly illuminated by small chunks of luminescent seaweed and coral. The twists and turns tore away more pieces of the dead tendrils and tentacles, making it easy for Trask to follow in their wake.

Armoured in thick cords of muscle and dense leathery scales, Trask ignored the chunks of stone collapsing from the collapsing caverns and tunnels, continuing his dogged pursuit of the retreating enemy.

My focus shifted abruptly as Gilkt passed through the Breach. He had brought two other people with him, but they were automatically diverted to Kwan’s aquatic killing field.

Sensing Kwan’s interest, I used my authority to teleport the new arrivals to my current location. <They are refugees.> I explained somewhat distractedly.

Blinded by the abrupt shift in ambient light, the two females Gilkt had brought through the Breach cried out with keening wails of confusion.

Gilkt paid them little mind and hastily dove back through the Breach. He reappeared a handful of moments later. However, this time he only managed to bring one person back with him.

“Wait!” I commanded, physically barring Gilkt’s reentry to the Breach with a hastily erected wall of stone while retrieving the latest new arrival. “This means of transportation carries a cost! Convince the others to pass through without accompanying them on every trip!” I still wasn't certain how many of them there were. So the prospect of losing MP just to transport Gilkt over and over again made me nervous.

Gilkt nodded anxiously. “Will obey.”

The instant I lowered the wall, Gilkt raced through the Breach. Moments later, another one of his people appeared in Kwan’s territory. Then another, and another.

Quickly checking Gilkt’s Status for his Species, I set a temporary ruling with my authority that would allow those of the same Species to enter my realm unobstructed. Which quickly proved to be the right decision. Gilkt’s people had begun stampeding through the Breach and Trask had just entered open water.

Rising clouds of silt and other debris obstructed the ocean floor. Whip-like tentacles could be seen racing through the periphery, maintaining a cloud of debris that made it impossible to lay eyes on the Leviathan’s core.

Undeterred, Trask began racing toward the field of debris.

As Trask grew closer, the true scale of the Leviathan became impossible to ignore. Almost half Ushu’s size and at least twice as long, the Leviathan had a sinewy serpentine body covered in dull grey scales. Except, in place of legs, or even fins, it had a swimming mass of barbed tentacles.

While size did not guarantee combat prowess, larger monsters generally received greater benefits from their stats and Racial Abilities compared to smaller monsters. For this reason, I had cause to err on the side of caution.

Gathering my Chi and triggering Sorcery, I Summoned Kwan using Sorcery to substitute two-thirds of my HP in place of the MP cost required to sustain his projection.

Trask’s approach had until this moment gone unnoticed. However, Kwan’s abrupt arrival immediately drew the Leviathan’s undivided attention.

<PREY!!!> Kwan announced through our Bond, taking me by surprise.

I felt a massive surge of Chi flood into the projection, causing its body to swell and writhe, nearly doubling its size in several seconds.

The Leviathan drew itself back and pressed itself defensively against the ocean floor. It was still considerably larger than Kwan’s projection by a noticeable margin, but it had seemingly lost its confidence as the superior apex predator.

Like a bullet, Kwan shot through the water and clamped his jaws onto the Leviathan’s neck, catching the larger monster completely off guard and sending Trask tumbling in his wake.

In a flurry of desperate violence, the Leviathan bludgeoned and jabbed at Kwan with its tentacles in an attempt to drive him off. When it failed, the Leviathan tried raking its barbs against his body.

Benefitting from Trask’s Synergy, the barbs scraped harmlessly across Kwan’s scales, leaving him unharmed.

While the two serpents tumbled through the water, Gilkt’s people were passing through the Breach in increasing numbers. First in pairs or small groups and then in a ragged line of desperate terrified bodies.

Shifting my focus back to Trask, I was just in time to witness Kwan deliver the death blow to the Leviathan.

With his jaws still firmly locked on the Leviathan’s throat, Kwan flooded his enemy with Chi carrying the Death Affinity. As the Chi spread, the Leviathan's body atrophied and sloughed desiccated chunks of pale withered flesh. Tentacles ripped and tore themselves apart, the bonds that bound them together rupturing under the strain of the Leviathan’s death throes.

Discontent with victory alone, Kwan released the leviathan’s neck and began savaging its head. Ripping away the flesh and crushing the exposed bones in his jaws.

Attuned to Kwan’s emotions and thoughts through our Bond, I knew he was searching for the Manastone embedded in the Leviathan’s brain.

<STOP.> I commanded.

I felt Kwan consider my command, entertain the prospect of disobeying it, and then reluctantly comply. <Dissatisfied.> Kwan replied irritably, his emotions pressing through the link and amplifying my desire to succumb to temptation and consume the Manastone. Then, as if recognising what he was doing, Kwan withdrew his thoughts, leaving feelings of shame and regret in their wake.

Small aquatic Beasts that had remained hidden throughout the battle now gorged themselves on the Leviathan’s rotten carcass. The larger Beasts that began appearing shortly afterwards quickly became Kwan’s prey. Torn apart and consumed in large meaty chunks to satisfy the serpent’s bloodlust and hunger.

Trask navigated the carnage with ease. He was ignored by Beasts small and large alike. Leaving Kwan to his feeding frenzy, Trask began making his way back through the partially collapsed tunnels and caverns leading to the grotto.

Despite the hundreds of refugees that had already passed through the Breach, hundreds more remained within the grotto. Clutching at small knives and spears made of bone, the warriors' ranks were bolstered many times over by the tribe’s hunters and able-bodied craftsmen.

Taking a few moments to reflect upon those who had already passed through the Breach, I could now see that the males who remained were noticeably older and bore scars that the younger males lacked. It also became impossible not to notice the absence of the elderly or infirm.

Ignoring the bristling wall of polearms, Trask ascended from the poo and began slowly approaching the Breach,

Stricken with awe, the warriors and militia melted away at his approach. Staring at Trask with expressions of disbelief and fear.

Singling Gilkt out from the crowd, Trask stalked toward him with single-minded purpose. An action that objectively carried a menacing aura of intent by the Lizardman’s brutish and savage appearance, regardless of his intentions.

To his credit, even as the militia melted away around him, Gilkt stood his ground. While Trask intended him no harm, Gilkt had no way of knowing that for certain.

“Beasst iss dead,” Trask rumbled with pride and cast a rotten chunk of the Leviathan’s flesh into the water between them. “Tyrant prevailss!”

Gilkt stared at Trask in mute silence for several moments as his mind struggled to process the unexpected news.

“Take otherss,” Trask pointed to the warriors, militia, and the stragglers hesitating on the periphery of the Breach. “Take to Tyrant. Take to ssafety.” He carefully rested a clawed hand on Gilkt’s shoulder and gave him a nod of approval. “Tyrant sseess. Tyrant planss. Believe.”

Trembling, perhaps from the weight of Trask’s arm, Gilkt stared at the chunk of flesh floating in the water. “It is dead?...” He whispered hoarsely, eyes wide and needle-toothed mouth agape in shock.

Trask grunted in the affirmative and released Gilkt’s shoulder. “Tyrant claimss thiss land! Thiss water! Leave! Guide tribe! Prepare return!”

It was obvious Gilkt didn’t quite understand what Trask was talking about. However, instead of challenging the Lizardman, he turned his focus toward the militia and warriors gathered near the grotto’s entrance. “We leave! Now! He waved at them and emphatically directed them toward the Breach. “Do not cast aside your lives! Protect our people!” Gilkt commanded sternly, changing his tone when it became clear no one was willing to abandon their post.

One of the militia was first to retreat toward the Breach. Emboldened, several more slowly moved to join him. Soon, all of the militia were on the move and the warriors began to join them.

Before passing through the Breach, Gilkt made a point of thoroughly searching the grotto and adjoining caverns. Once he was certain no one had been left behind, he joined the others in the isolated territory.

Leaving them supplies, I relocated to another isolated territory, collapsed the Breach and gave Trask the go-ahead to trigger the Invasion.

Next, I directed Faine to actively pursue recruiting additional Overseers by Invading other Labyrinths. In the meantime, I had the eggs that preceded Gilkt’s arrival sent to the communal nursery in Sanctuary and put up for adoption.

On my own again, I turned my attention toward the tablet.

The screen now responded to my faintest touch, causing me to believe that it was sufficiently charged to hold up against at least a cursory investigation.

A host of symbols I didn’t recognise appeared in a keyboard format on the lower portion of the screen below an input box in the centre of the screen.

Unsure how to proceed, I spent several minutes considering the different symbols. Eventually, I was forced to admit that I didn’t know what to do.

Withdrawing Eliza Eckart’s I.D badge from my Storage Ring, I released another sigh of disappointment.

I had briefly entertained the idea that the badge might have a passcode or something similar written on it. A foolish idea, but I couldn’t think of anything else.

Frustrated, I set the tablet and badge aside so I could clear my head. However, Just as I was rising to my feet, I heard a faint chime come from the speakers of the tablet.

Investigating the cause of the sound, I was surprised to find that one corner of the badge had landed on the tablet and that the image on the screen of the tablet had now changed.

A string of symbols had entered themselves into the input box and removed the digital keyboard.

Retrieving the tablet and the badge, I watched as the screen changed, transitioning briefly to present a string of indecipherable symbols before settling into what bore a strong resemblance to a smartphone interface.

To my astonishment, the names of the folders appeared to be written in English while the folders themselves bore more of the same symbols.

Reading through the names of the folders, I was given the impression that the tablet had been used for taking research notes. Opening a folder at random seemed to confirm that theory when a plethora of dry subfolder names adhered to an alphanumeric sorting system.

With a little experimentation, I learned how to return to the hosting screen again.

My attention was drawn toward one folder, in particular, simply titled Answers.

Opening the folder revealed several more folders and several dozen loose files of indeterminate contents or substance. As if whoever had gathered the files and folders hadn’t been given the time to present them in a more orderly format.

With no way of knowing if the order mattered, I chose a file in the top left of the screen as an experiment to see what would happen.

After tapping the icon, a partially minimised video appeared on the screen. 

Eliza was standing in front of a row of mirrors and washroom sinks, splashing her face with cool water. She appeared slightly younger than in the photo used for her I.D. bearing a vitality not present in the photo.

Wearing a long white lab coat over a shirt and pants, she bore a striking resemblance to stock photo footage that would have answered just about any generic search engine result for ‘scientist’.

“Chance of a lifetime Liz,” Eliza muttered nervously. “Let’s just try not to fuck this up...” She reached toward the screen, raising a pair of conservative glasses that housed some form of micro camera recording the video. Fitting the glasses onto her face, she took a few moments to police a few stray hairs that had escaped her bun and then made her way toward the exit.

Eliza stepped out into a familiar-looking corridor and joined up with a small group of men and women wearing the same style of lab coat with I.D. badges affixed to the breast pocket.

An older man with thin grey hair and a retreating grey hairline clicked his tongue at Eliza disapprovingly. “You have set our orientation tour behind by several minutes, Mrs Eckart! I will have it noted in your next performance review!” He turned on his heel and motioned impatiently for Eliza and the others to follow him, denying her a rebuttal.

Even accounting for his abrasive actions thus far, I was surprised to find that I held an intense dislike for the man that I otherwise couldn’t account for.

“Prick,” a man in his late twenties and green eyes muttered before falling into step behind him.

“I don’t care what the recruiters told you,” the older man sneered arrogantly. “All of you are replaceable. If I think you aren’t living up to expectations, you’re gone. Am I clear?!”

Eliza and the others replied in the affirmative but wore sour expressions on their faces.

“!Good!” The older man chuffed to himself with an exaggerated sense of self-importance. “With the Tiamites nearing their end goal, this research has never been more important! The very fate of humanity is at stake!”

A small contingent of soldiers or guards wearing the strange helmets passed them in the corridor.

“Without the research conducted within this facility, we would not have the dragonslayer arms nor armour!” The older man crowed proudly, waving a hand at the security force and puffing out his chest with pride. “Mass production should become possible within the decade and will dramatically alter the course of the war!”

The man with green eyes shook his head incredulously. “Like we would stand a chance in open war...” He muttered darkly.

His comment earned a myriad of responses from the others in his group. A couple of the others agreed with him and appeared saddened by it.

“Of course, this is nothing compared to the work being undertaken in my department!” The older man continued arrogantly. “As I am sure you will agree once you see it for yourselves.”

The group passed through several security checkpoints before arriving outside of the laboratory.

Expecting to find the quarantine chamber, I became confused when the door opened to reveal the larger room beyond. Except that the room was different than when I had found it as well.

The walls were still packed with machinery and computer banks, but the glass tubes, and their contents, were gone. 

At least, that was what I thought until the group approached a large glass cage in the centre of the chamber.

The floor of the chamber was spattered with dried blood and filth. Huddled in one corner of the cage was a grey-skinned child.

The group released gasps of surprise and fanned out as they approached the cage so they could get an unobstructed view of the child.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The older man opened his arms wide and gave a predatory smile. “THIS is how we will win the war!” He motioned to the grey-skinned child. “When we master this technology, the Tiamite’s numerical advantage will mean nothing!”

Looking at the child, I felt like my blood had been replaced by ice water.

It was me.

But it couldn’t be.

I had been an infant when my mother rescued me from a garbage bin. I had seen the baby photos in the album that proved as much. Of course, there were no photos of the garbage bins themselves, but there were dozens of photos proving my infancy.

And yet...

There was a feeling deep inside of me, an instinct, that recognised the child and insisted upon a truth that ran contrary to what I knew to be true.

I remembered the rows of corpses suspended in the glass tubes and came to another disturbing conclusion. They had been me as well. The same part of me that claimed ownership of this child also claimed them as well.

They were me. All of them.

That should have been impossible.

Of course, everything else that had happened to me should have been impossible as well, but it had happened anyway.

“This is subject XJ one four five. It represents the culmination of our efforts thus far-” the older man boasted.

“It’s a monster!” One of the scientists exclaimed.

“A monster we control!” The older man countered, narrowing his eyes dangerously. “The foundation for an army that will guarantee our independence, our independence, nay, our ascendency over the decadent Tiamite Empire in perpetuity!!”

The more experienced scientists already working in the lab paid him no mind whatsoever. Preferring to continue their work in silence. However, except for the green-eyed man and Eliza, the new arrivals clapped in vigorous support.

The video ended and the players closed.

Too numb to think, I tapped at the next file icon.

A new application opened and I was bombarded by dense lines of impenetrable text. Taking a short break and then trying again, I met with no more success than I had the first time. There was too much-implied knowledge and overuse of jargon I was completely unfamiliar with to establish even a basic understanding of its contents.

Skipping the parts I was struggling with, I was beginning to lose focus when I encountered a highlighted section of text. Tapping at the highlighted section, the existing text faded into the background and a short paragraph graph appeared in the foreground.

[ Meltzer’s soul-scrubbing protocols were reinforced after several control subjects from another research division escaped during a field test. Security around the current iteration of the primary test subject has been increased. ~Investigate research project Immortalis. ]

Tapping at the paragraph to try and remove it from the foreground, my finger accidentally struck the final sentence and triggered another document to open itself through some form of macro or link.

[ Project Terminated ]

Almost all of the text within the document was encrypted or perhaps corrupted, taking the shape of strange symbols but in a cruder, less cohesive form. However, the legible segments were marked by more of the same highlighting tool from the previous document.

Tapping one of the highlighted segments, I found that the segments appeared to be gathered in the secondary section of the document, roughly mirroring the location of the primary segments themselves.

Some notes were innocuous or otherwise irrelevant, but others proved impossible to ignore.

[ Another living weapon program? ]

[ Also used mana constructs...Research invented the collars. ]

[ Entire security division was ‘replaced’...Rumours claim they were fired for incompetence. Collars ineffective? ]

[ Meltzer’s soul scrubbing protocols have failed to reacquire or destroy Immortalis research subjects. Alterations responsible? Potential dangers to Project Tyrant? ]

Before I even realised what I was doing, I had tapped the word, Tyrant, briefly highlighting both words before another application opened in the foreground.

[ For promotional purposes only! ]

An establishing shot of the universe slowly panned across the screen while orchestral music played in the background.

“For millennia, heroes have been called to fight back the Tiamite Empire’s advance...” A gruff grizzled male voice narrated.

One by one, the stars flickered and then disappeared.

The scene changed and focused in on a tall blonde-haired and blue-eyed man in the plate and mail carrying a sword, a second dark-haired man with grey eyes in short robes carrying a staff, and a woman in similarly short robes with dark red hair and green eyes that carried no weapon at all.

The trio stood at the forefront of an army that had to number in the tens of thousands.

The camera slowly drew back to reveal a tide of monsters swarming out of massive portals and toward the army across from them.

The further the camera retreated, the more clear it became that the trio’s forces were hopelessly outmatched.

Even so, dramatic music began to play and the trio leapt into action.

The heavily armoured knight threw himself headfirst into the ranks of the oncoming monsters, hewing them apart with superhuman strength and speed.

With a gesture, the dark-haired man in the short robes created a translucent golden wall that stalled nearly a full third of the monster's foremost forces.

Lightning arced from the red-headed woman’s hands, incinerating monsters in their hundreds.

“The heroes have failed...” The narrator declared grimly.

Alien spacecraft appeared in the sky and began raking the ranks of the heroes' embattled army with some form of energy-based projectiles. Killing hundreds in only a handful of seconds.

Men in strange plate armour and with detailed bearded masks descended from the ships and began encircling the heroes. Unleashing a withering hail of smaller energy projectiles from their guns as they advanced toward them.

Overwhelmed, the golden shield shattered and two of the three heroes died where they stood. Their bodies perforated and torn apart until nothing remained.

The third hero, the blonde-haired man in the plate and mail managed to kill one of the enemy soldiers. However, the enemy soldiers quickly proved to be almost as fast and as strong as he was. 

While other soldiers distracted the hero, another soldier stowed his gun on his back and drew a battle axe.

Approaching from the hero's blindside, the soldier struck him in the back, severing the hero's spine and cleaving him in two. Shouting something in a language I didn’t understand, the soldier raised his weapon high, eliciting a similar reply from every other soldier.

As the light died in the hero’s previously bright blue eyes, the camera slowly drew back again, revealing the scope of the massacre.

“We were wrong to think the righteousness of our cause would bring us victory...” The narrator continued in an increasingly agitated tone. “To think that we could fight such evil without sullying our hands!”

A short distance from the battle, a new portal appeared.

“The Tiamite hordes respect one thing and one thing only! STRENGTH!” The narrator roared.

An armoured giant emerged from the portal and raised a proportionately large pistol. With a single shot, an enemy soldier was pulped on the shot, obliterated into a mangled mess of meat and metal.

A horde of armoured Ogres began streaming from the portal.

The giant roared and led the Ogres in a charge against the enemy.

“MIGHT MAKES RIGHT!” The narrator roared savagely.

Monsters and enemy soldiers alike were blasted to pieces and crushed underfoot.

Where the human soldiers had been killed by as few as two or three shots from the enemy weapons, the Ogres soaked sustained bursts of fully automatic fire and kept advancing. Ignoring otherwise fatal injuries in their fervour.

The enemy soldiers began to panic, retreating deeper into the mass of monsters and toward their ships. However, their ships were blown apart before they could reach them. Changing course, they cast down their weapons and fled toward the portals that were delivering more of the monsters to the battlefield.

“The time for appeasement is over!” The Narrator snarled viciously, his words accentuated by a series of brutal executions made by the giant. “It’s time we start fighting fire with fire! To snatch victory from the jaws of defeat! It’s time to unleash THE TYRANTS!!!”

The giant removed its helmet and stared straight into the camera. Its impossibly black eyes stared back at me with a face disturbingly similar to my own.

[ unauthorised distribution of this material is prohibited. ]

The video ended and I found myself staring at the screen for several long minutes in stunned silence.

“I’m supposed to be some sort of super soldier to fight in this war?...” Saying it aloud only made it sound even more ridiculous. “Or is that child just a clone? Am I a clone?...” I could feel my sanity slipping and hysteria creeping in from the corners of my mind. “It could all be a lie...” I rationalised in a desperate attempt to gain some form of grounding before my imagination had a chance to run wild.

But was the video so different to reality?

I had collected several guns that looked incredibly similar to those in the video, not to mention the armour...I had led an army of Ogres into enemy territory and annihilated all opposition...

I shook my head. Slowly at first, and then faster. “No...It doesn’t make sense...Why would they need me, him...that thing...if they already had an endless supply of monsters of their own? What about the Cultivators? How are they supposed to fit into all of this and the Angels?!” I could hear the hysteria creeping into my voice and clenched my jaw hard to stop myself from speaking.

Not that it did much good.

If this place is where I was born, hatched, made?... How did I arrive on Earth?

I looked at the tablet and felt a profound sense of dread. However, as much as learning more about my origins horrified me, the prospect of not knowing was worse.

Even so, despite everything, and after everything I had been through, there had been a part of me that firmly believed I was human. I could feel that part of me fading away. I could feel...something else...taking its place.

My entire life people had called me a monster, and now I had proof that they were right all along...

I had acted against my core nature, suppressing and denying violent impulses so I wouldn’t become what they proclaimed me to be...And yet, here I am...Everything they claimed and more...

“I’m a monster, and always have been,” I grunted dispondantly.

A golden notification appeared before my eyes. Attempting to blink the notification away or remove it with my authority proved ineffective. Glaring at the notification, my aggravation quickly gave way to confusion and surprise as I read its contents.

[ Unique Evolution is now available. Accept? {Y / Y} ]

What's going on? - Chapter is coming out soon.

A few people have been asking, so I will just make a post addressing it so everyone can see it in one place.

I had a bad bout of allergies that left me in a pretty rough state. The usual Antihistamines weren't cutting it, so I had to go with a prescription medication. I still have no idea what set those allergies off in the first place, but it's resolved. So that's good.

Unfortunately, those same allergies resulted in my eyes getting scratched up, leaving me unable to read or write for a couple of days while they healed. Which was long enough to give me writers block and trigger a series of 'rewrites'.

Anyone who was looking at the discord notifications would have seen me post "chapter being released Tonight!" two or three times in as many days. Because in those moments I was making progress and getting on with things, only to stall out a short while later.

What happens now?

I'm working on the chapter and intend to release it today, but we will see. As for the chapter that was missed, I will be writing a catchup chapter this week or next week.

I tend to get very wrapped up in what I'm doing and procrastinate releasing posts like this one as a result. So I don't mind people giving a poke Discord when this sort of thing happens.

Anyway, I better get back to it.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 84 - Origins in Trauma - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 84 - Origins in Trauma - Part Two

As we approached the border, it became increasingly apparent that our earlier trespass had not gone unnoticed.

Crude watchtowers had been hastily erected and gave the enemy scouts an unobstructed view of our approach, and ample time to provide warning to their allies.

Instead of an army, a small contingent of Knights riding large horned lizards rode out to intercept us. Showing no immediate signs of aggression, it became clear that they intended to engage in some form of diplomacy.

Unable to assume a human form and unwilling to draw additional attention to myself, I sent Sebet forward with the Oba clan’s elders to see what the Knights wanted.

Wearing her stone armour, Sebet cut quite the contrast amidst the Oba elders in their Eastern-styled brigandine and breastplates. Thankfully, their altered helmets did much to disguise their horns as ornamental decorations as well as conceal their faces.

Sebet and the elders approached the Knights on foot.

One of the Knights drew closer but did not dismount. No doubt intending the gesture to serve as a form of indirect insult. Or perhaps as an intimidation tactic, forcing Sebet to crane her neck to look him in the eye.

Or to avoid having to do the same if he were to dismount since Sebet was currently eight feet tall.

<Bad news, I am afraid.> Sebet reported almost immediately. <They are intending to launch an ambush.>

<You are certain?> I replied somewhat irritably.

My nerves and general mental state were in poor condition after days of forced marching without sleep, and I was in no mood for diplomatic shenanigans. If they intended violence, that was exactly what they would get.

<Their spokesman’s mind is shielded with a magic item. So I cannot probe too deeply without being noticed...> Sebet hedged. <However, his companions have no such protection and are quite impatient to be on with it. They are convinced that we are rogue mercenaries and have angered the Dominion in some way. So they are going to kill us to try and keep the peace.>

<They aren’t afraid we are working for the Dominion?> I asked, confused that they would act with so little information.

<The Dominion doesn’t hire mercenaries.> Sebet replied glibly. <They do not need them. Or I suppose they HAD no need of them.> She amended with a hint of amusement.

<If they cannot be dissuaded...then they will need to be put down...> I ordered, hardening my heart to the senseless deaths that would soon follow.

In the blink of an eye, the Oba clan elders leapt into action. Moving so fast that their bodies were a blur of motion, they landed behind the mounted Knights with swords drawn and stained with blood.

The five Knights toppled from their saddles in pieces, scattering onto the ground in bloody chunks of armour, flesh and bone.

With a thought, I seized control over their mounts, Dominating them without effort and Commanding them to my side.

Sebet retrieved something amidst the dirt and gore, presumably the lead Knight’s source of psychic Resistance.

A panicked horn call trumpeted from the enemy camp.

“Shields!” Baldr called out excitedly, rousing his warriors from their mental fatigue. “Spears forward! Wodin watches us! Move!”

The clear skies overhead rumbled with thunder and storm clouds began to appear as if by magic. Which, of course, they had.

Viking Cultivators giggled and chuckled with deranged battle-lust as they jostled from the prime of place at the head of their ragged formation. Each sparing a handful of moments to whisper prayers to small pendants worn about their necks.

My bodyguards formed a solid wall of magically fortified stone shields. Not so subtly penning me in place. Both as a means of protecting me from the enemy, and discouraging me from engaging in direct combat.

Mentally directing the Ogres, I formed them into a second ring of defence around myself. Many of them were missing armour and weapons, and while they were no doubt capable of killing an armoured Knight with their bare hands, a spear to the brain or heart would kill them all the same.

Besides, based solely on what I could make of the troops I could see marching out of the enemy encampment, they wouldn’t be needed.

The majority of the enemy force, roughly four hundred or so infantry and as many bowmen, was on foot, dressed in mail and padded cloth armour. If their armour wasn’t magical, and I had no reason to believe it was, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Baldr’s men. No doubt the enemy’s confidence to act came from the hundred or so mounted heavy cavalry.

Then, I felt it.

First one, then five, fifty, ninety...

Close to a thousand slaves began spilling out of the side of the camp in a ragged rushed formation.

With a single thought, the Ogres began moving with deadly purposeful silence. Taking up a vanguard position ahead of even Baldr and his warriors, the Ogres each assumed their place with uncanny precision.

Wailing cries of despair rose from the ragged horde of Slaves as they passed the human infantry and laid eyes on what was ahead of them. Here and there, Slaves staggered as they tried, to resist the Commands of their Masters to little avail.

As the horde of Slaves grew closer, laughter carried from the ranks of the infantry and archers trailing behind them.

With a surge of MP, I drew stone up from beneath the barren plain and formed a bristling wall of stone palisades in front of the Ogres.

As one, every Ogre leaned forward and began snapping spikes free from the palisade and gathering them up in their free hand.

With a second surge of MP, I smoothed the ground again.

The wailing from the Slaves grew louder as they began their final approach. Several had already collapsed. However, it was unclear whether it was from the pain, abuse, malnutrition or a combination of all three.

Bracing myself for the pain that would follow, I took a deep steadying breath. With Every scrap of will I could bring to bear, I seized at the magical Bonds of the Slaves in a bid to free them from their Masters.

Just as I anticipated, pain rippled through my mind, clawing and digging at my ragged nerves but failing to find a permanent purchase.

Caught unawares, the weakest amongst the Masters died without putting up a fight, increasing the burden upon those that remained. Creating a cascade of death they couldn’t hope to escape, let alone survive.

Urging the Slaves onward, I sent another Command to the Ogres.

As one, every second Ogre in the formation moved three paces forward and three to their left, forming open channels allowing the Slaves to pass amongst them and beyond without breaking stride.

The laughter came to an abrupt end and was replaced with confused shouting from officers and soldiers alike.

Before returning the Ogres' autonomy, I gave them one final command.

<Throw.>

Ogre Sarges roared and swarms of stone javelins took flight in rapid succession.

Cries of terror and pain erupted from the ranks of the enemy infantry as javelins hammered into their frontmost ranks and drove into those behind. Binding dying men together and stalling the enemy's advance, causing those behind to suffer the same fate.

Enemy archers hastily returned fire but met with no success. As dim-witted as they were, the Ogres stuck to their training and shielded their eyes and throat with their free arm, causing the archers’ arrows to bounce harmlessly off the Ogres' thick hides.

The cavalry began moving around the periphery in earnest, no doubt hoping to charge on our flank and incite a rout.

Without being told what to do, my champions turned their attention toward the cavalry and began preparing countermeasures. Spikes and palisades and thick walls of brush and thorns rose on our flanks, directing the cavalry back toward the centre where Baldr and his Cultivators had just initiated a one-sided slaughter amidst the ranks of the infantry.

Just like the Ogres, the Cultivators proved all but invulnerable to the scattered volleys attempted by the archers who were attempting to hold their ground.

Half of the enemy force was already dead or actively fleeing the battle and more were doing one or the other with every passing moment.

Baldr was singling out officers at every opportunity and hacking them down almost as quickly as he identified them. Besides wreaking havoc on enemy morale, it was growing apparent that Baldr’s executions were making the man himself quite frustrated.

It was hardly a surprise since the Cultivators were practically monsters with class levels. Making the confrontations ridiculously one-sided.

When the remainder of the infantry was routed, the heavy cavalry fled as well. Leaving the infantry and archers behind in a cloud of dust.

Baldr’s Cultivators didn’t take any prisoners, and a small part of me, deep down, deeper than I had expected, felt ashamed for not taking steps to prevent what amounted to outright executions.

Then I considered the sorry state of the surviving Slaves, and that small part of me went silent.

The human Slaves were understandably terrified out of their wits and many of them had broken down into hysterics or near catatonia, with few in between.

The monsters had begun segregating themselves by Species, regarding one another and above all others, myself, with hard leery eyes.

Recognising an Orc majority, I turned to Lurr and waved him forward. “See that they are given food and water. If any are dangerously malnourished, make sure the others don’t starve or overfeed them.”

“Understood, Tyrant!” Lurr slammed his gauntleted fist against his chest in respect and approached the mass of Orc Slaves.

Suspicions amongst the other Slaves rapidly evaporated after witnessing fresh food and water being liberally distributed amongst the Orc Slaves. After only a couple of minutes, they began actively seeking out the supplies on their own.

However, the majority of the human Slaves were so out of sorts that they didn’t realise what was happening. Those that were aware of the food and water being distributed, hung back out of fear of the monsters.

Without being asked, the Ainsleys began making their way over to the humans.

“How far are we from the outermost range of the Anchors?” I asked, directing the question toward no one in particular.

“At our established rate?” Lord Garick qualified, his wrinkled brow creasing still further as he contemplated the question. “Roughly a half day's march, Majesty. Accounting for any, ahem, new arrivals, it could take a full day. Likely longer.”

“Recommendations?” I pressed, trying not to let on just how tired I was.

“Sleds, Majesty,” one of the more junior, although by no means young, officers volunteered. “We could fashion the tents and the like into simple sleds. With the Ogres drawing the Sleds, and the Slaves riding them, we should only lose the time it takes to fashion the sleds themselves. Which shouldn’t take long at all.”

“At worst, we could make litters to carry them,” another officer suggested in agreement with his peer. “Poles and cloth are all that is needed, and the Ogres have strength to spare.”

“See to it,” I agreed, tacitly giving both men carte blanche to see it done.

We were on the move again within the hour. The stretchers had proven faster and simpler to make, but the humans had gone into hysterics at the prospect of approaching the Ogres. This meant that Baldr’s warriors had to be called upon in place of the Ogres.

While physically capable of the task, the Cultivators were not particularly enthusiastic about it. If they had been given a choice in the matter, they no doubt would have refused. Or at the very least, would have attempted to excuse themselves under one pretence or another.

So it was good that they didn’t have a choice in the matter. The irony of this was not lost on me.

The original plan had been to use the Beacons and Recall for the return trip. The Slaves required an alternative method.

As the hours passed by, I didn’t think much of it. However, as our surroundings became somewhat familiar, I became increasingly aware of the problem.

I was so tired that it didn’t matter what I decided to do at this moment. The moment I got home, my brain would make every excuse it could think of, no matter how stupid or unrealistic, just so it could shut off and I could sleep.

Which left me a finite number of options on how to proceed, and I didn’t like any of them.

So, naturally, I settled for the simplest solution I could think of.

Once we were free of the Anchors, I had the Ogres shepherd the Slaves through a massive Breach. Saving time at the expense of burning through almost all of my MP, my reserve of MP, and a chunk of my HP as well.

Which was definitely a risk. However, the moment I returned home, it ceased to matter.

The instant my head touched my pillow, darkness claimed me.

Opening my eyes, I felt a brief surge of panic as events reasserted themselves in my conscious mind. However, my authority just as quickly diverted my attention by imposing lost events and the passage of time into my mind.

Ten days had passed since my return. During that time, Slaves had been arriving in steadily increasing numbers. In my absence, Sebet had been manually exercising her limited authority to redirect the Slaves away from a watery grave. It was only in the past five hours that she and Gric had changed places.

“Daddy can play now?” Suzy asked, drawing my attention back to my immediate surroundings.

My daughter was sitting on my chest with her head tilted to one side and resting in her webbed palm. Her expression made it clear that she was bored and wasn’t particularly optimistic regarding her chances of a favourable answer.

I could see the tablet with the broken screen on the bedside table and knew that investigating its contents for answers was not an undertaking that I could take lightly. Assuming it held any answers at all, I would need to devote my entire attention and focus to finding and understanding them.

I gently shifted Suzy aside so I could sit up and stretch. The trapped gas escaping my joints sounded like a string of firecrackers and drew Pete’s attention away from the small pile of books spread out over the dining table.

“Okay,” I replied, doing my best to smile but uncertain whether it managed to reach my eyes. “I just need to handle some work first.”

Suzy’s expression flipped on a dime, shifting from grim acceptance to jubilant optimism in less than a heartbeat. “Really?!” She asked excitedly, eagerly hopping up and down, unable to contain her happiness.

“Really really,” I answered, picking her up and planting a kiss on her forehead before setting her down again. “Take Pete and Eg, and I’ll come find you when I’m ready to play, okay?”

“Okay!” Suzy agreed eagerly. Spinning on the spot, she momentarily lost her footing in the two-foot-tall water covering the floor before scrambling toward her brother.

Seeing his sister coming and knowing exactly what to expect, Pete was already on the move. Having abandoned his books, he was nearly halfway out the door by the time she reached the table.

Shrugging into the clothes I reserved for ‘official business’ I relocated myself to the throne room on its isolated mountaintop. Incidentally catching a handful of cleaning staff and decorators by surprise. Allowing them to continue their work, I sent a Quest to all of the Faction Leaders, informing them and requiring that they or a designated representative travel to the throne room and adjoining council chambers within the hour.

While waiting on my throne for their arrival, I summoned a projection of Lash and held her close.

“You are awake,” Lash observed brightly after stealing a kiss.

“I am now,” I chuckled trying to avoid thinking of the circumstances of the past month, if only for a few moments.

Lash smiled and there was a glimmer of pride and satisfaction in her eyes as she made herself comfortable on my lap.

“I didn’t want to pull you away from whatever you were doing,” I explained while doing my best to relax and enjoy the feeling of her body against mine. “We can talk more in person later.”

“This is fine,” Lash replied without judgement, resting her head against my chest briefly before smirking and glancing up at me from the corner of her eye. “For now,” she amended huskily.

“I already promised Suzy I would play with her and Pete,” I cautioned, intending to temper her expectations.

“My turn will come later,” Lash commented without the faintest hint of jealousy.

I wrapped my left arm around her waist and gave her an appreciative squeeze instead of a spoken promise.

We remained this way, taking reassurance in one another’s company until the first of the Faction Leaders arrived in the antechamber. However, it was only after the last of the invited Faction Leaders arrived that Lash took her place on the throne beside mine. Albeit with visible reluctance before assuming a more commanding and regal demeanour.

Opening the doors with my Earth affinity, I motioned for the assembled Faction Leaders to enter the throne room.

All told, there were close to a hundred people. While the largest Factions belonged to the Humans, Dwergi, Scaled Kobolds and Gnolls, there were many other Species that had sufficient numbers to warrant representation. Most of these Factions only had a few hundred members, but a few numbered in the low thousands.

What’s more, the influx of Slaves from the Dominion was almost guaranteed to swell the smaller Factions' ranks multiple times over. Assuming the liberated Slaves joined existing Factions rather than petitioning for their own.

Although motioning for silence was unnecessary, I made a point of doing so anyway as a means of signalling the beginning of the meeting.

“The Coleopteras, the beetlemen that invaded Sanctuary, are all dead,” I announced with grim finality.

This news came as little shock to the Humans and a few of the other Factions that were on close terms with them. I could tell just by looking into the eyes of the Semenovian King, Asrusian Regent, and Dwergi Chancellor that they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“A new enemy, an older enemy, has presented itself,” I continued. “Although the threat they present is currently uncertain, I will be taking steps to bolster the strength of all willing individuals to secure Sanctuary’s safety.”

Faction leaders exchanged uncertain glances.

“Furthermore, I am permitting the renewed and accelerated acquisition of Labyrinth territories.” I paused, waiting for the cacophony of gasps and muffled exclamations of surprise to die down. Those possessing the Overseer title can now initiate a Challenge independently without need of an Artefact, while others in possession of an Artefact may proceed as before.” I had to pause again as a fresh wave of excited murmuring rose from the crowd. “As some of you already know, I have come into possession of new Artefacts and I intend to make them available for this endeavour. However, in the interests of mutual gain and establishing closer ties, my Artefacts, both old and new, will only be made available to those who agree to cooperative undertakings involving a minimum of five other Factions per Artefact. To encourage greater consideration for involving the smaller and less established Factions, those who finalise a commitment to cooperation with no less than ten Factions will be forgiven Sanctuary’s territory taxation for the duration of this campaign.”

Dead silence fell over the throne room and I could see the gears turning behind the Faction Leaders’ eyes as each of them hastily determined how best to gain an advantage for their people.

While territories taken from the Labyrinths added to Sanctuary’s overall mass, there were no guarantees that the territories taken would be desirable to the Faction that claimed them in the first place. In other circumstances, they would petition for the territory to trade hands. Or if they were lucky, it would be taken as tax. My offer was intended to change that.

“Each coalition will be required to mark their conquered territories and register the territory with head librarian Yor. This record-keeping system will ensure that distribution of these territories can be undertaken without undue disruption.” I had spent a considerable amount of time in the past fiddling about with borders and the like before and was not keen on repeating the process on a much larger scale. “In that same vein, I will require all participating Factions to negotiate their current and future borders accordingly. Territories will not be placed without the express agreement of all neighbouring Factions. Attempts to circumvent or manipulate this mandate will be met with harsh consequences.”

A few Faction Leaders of the more cunning Species, Humans included, shifted nervously under the intense but deliberately vague warning and consequences.

“We will convene again later this evening,” I announced firmly. “In the interim, I expect you all to begin making preparations for what lies ahead. You are dismissed.”

Murmuring quickly arose from the crowd as they headed out the door toward the council chambers, quickly rising to a dull roar.

Once the room was empty, I Summoned projections of Sebet, Yor and Wraithe. These three were also Faction Leaders. While Yor and Wraithe probably didn’t need or want any territories, they were still entitled to use their position to negotiate for things they had a use for.

Sebet’s case was more unique and I wasn’t certain how I felt about it. Just like the Daemons, she was entitled to participate in the negotiations. However, she didn’t have a pressing need for territories either, and unlike the Daemons, Sebet had a distinct advantage when negotiating for whatever she wanted.

“I strongly disagree,” Sebet countered once I had explained what had transpired and my misgivings. “I am a Queen, in my own right, and I have several subjects already. What’s more, with the influx of new arrivals, I expect their numbers to grow. After the loss of the territories formerly placed under my care, I have been left in something of an awkward position, and it is affecting my ability to live up to my assigned duties as effectively as I might do otherwise.”

“That is technically true, on all counts,” I agreed dryly. “However, wouldn’t ruling over thousands of people also distract you from your duties?”

Seebet grinned slyly. “Not as much as you may think,” she replied calmly. “In fact, it would allow me to delegate more freely, making it easier to dedicate more of my attention elsewhere.”

“Mhm...” I grunted, making it clear I was still unconvinced.

“I’m bound by Oaths AND a Contract,” Sebet reminded me with a hint of exasperation. “What exactly are you worried I might do?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “And that’s what worries me.”

“What about probation then?” Sebet wheedled. “Give me a few months to prove I can do it and don’t have any ‘nefarious’ ulterior motives.”

“Fine,” I relented. “Just as before, Gric will have the right to audit your operations at any time.”

“Of course,” Sebet agreed with a Cheshire grin.

Shaking my head, I waved her away and then turned to Yor, who was still patiently waiting for further instructions. “I was thinking if each Faction had the means to Summon you directly to a conquered territory, you could leave identifying markers and keep a central record in Sanctuary’s library.”

“I can certainly do this, my Tyrant!” Yor agreed eagerly, doing an amusing skittering dance on her eight spider-like legs. “Just like Wraithe, you’re entitled to negotiate for territories of your own as well, if you want to,” I added.

Yor wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Wouldn’t this present the appearance of a conflict of interest?” She asked warily.

“It would,” I agreed. “However, you could use the territories as leverage for a public good. If you are so inclined.”

“Oh! I like that idea!” Yor agreed and clapped her chitinous hands excitedly. “I could use the land to build more libraries! And Universities to write more books to fill them with!”

Wraithe had been somewhat disinterested up until this point but perked up after hearing that. “I could have more hospitals built? And schools to teach and train more Surgeons?”

I nodded encouragingly.

Leaving them to sort things out independently, I dismissed Lash’s projection and returned home. After removing my royal costume, I went outside and found my children were all waiting for me.

Upping the ante on the slip and slide, I made several water slides. The simplest was a chute on a forty-five-degree angle that emptied into the water. The most thrilling, and potentially dangerous, for Humans, had a series of winding turns and was initiated from roughly fifty feet in the air.

Crafting the steps to access the taller waterslides had required soliciting Hana's expertise. While I was comfortable working with stone, Hana was able to mutate a local moss into forming a gripping and absorbent surface to walk on.

It was only after completing the final slide that I noticed a few things.

First, Eg had Evolved and taken on a similar Evolutionary path to myself and my children, with the Lake adaptation. Allowing her to breathe water while in the water, just like us. Although she was still understandably cautious when going into the water on foot and outright frightened before completing her first trip down the gentlest waterslide.

Second, the screams and laughter of the kids had drawn a large degree of attention and spectators. Amongst which was Nadine, Fesk and their newly born child, Edwin. Affording me my first glimpse of the pudgy little toddler. Besides his white wispy hair and overly fair skin, he looked human. If it wasn't for the intense look in his dark eyes, that is.

Like all monster children, Edwin had an established foundation of knowledge imprinted into his brain. Whether or not he was capable of understanding most of it was unclear. However, it did create an almost unsettling degree of awareness that wasn’t present in human children.

Third, and last of all, I noticed Mud was belching plumes of flame between mouthfuls of roast Beast and some type of alcohol. An amusing sight on its own merits, but decidedly disconcerting and infinitely more interesting after I realised his blazing belching was suffused with Chi and the Fire Affinity. My surprise only intensified after inspecting his Status and realising he had gained access to the Cultivation System and had a second Status.

What’s more, Mud had already learned a Technique. An impressive feat in its own right, that only became more so with the knowledge that Mud, just like the other wild Ogres, was utterly illiterate.

Summoning a projection of Sebet for her expertise, I didn’t expect for her to have an answer already on hand to explain the phenomenon.

“My Tyrant, you are the one that altered him...” Sebet stated warily. “Do you not remember?”

I slowly shook my head and tried to suppress my mounting concerns.

“While fighting against the Coleopterans, you, erm, you used Mud as an improvised projectile...It was during this time that you altered him,” Sebet explained. “As for the Technique...I am uncertain, but I shall consult with Oba Kei to find answers on your behalf.”

After giving my approval, I transported the projection to Oba Kei’s location and then returned to my children. My short period of distraction had not gone unnoticed and I didn’t want to upset Suzy any more than I might have done already.

To make it up to her, I made one last water slide. While it didn’t have as many twists or turns as the others, the slide and an upward-angled chute at the end would send anyone half my size or smaller flying through the air before landing in the lake.

I took special care to pay attention to Suzy whenever it was her turn to use the slide.

After a couple of hours, and the kids had worked up a ravenous appetite, Toofy volunteered to take them out of The Grove to get something to eat from Sanctuary’s market. I would have thought it was a convenient coincidence if Lash hadn’t handed Toofy an incredibly shiny silver mirror a few moments later.

Leaving the other residents of The Grove to enjoy the new attraction, Lash and I slipped away so we could spend some time alone.

Several hours later, I was staring at the ceiling with Lash draped over my chest, explaining what had happened during my absence, what I had seen, and the significance of the tablet on the bedside table.

I had spoken of my life on Earth before, but it was difficult to adequately explain the technology I had once taken for granted. A great deal of it required either specialised knowledge or an existing understanding of certain concepts. Which Lash, as a native of this world, lacked.

So it was difficult to convey how utterly strange I found what was altogether overly familiar the technology appeared to be.

She listened anyway and did her best to show she was giving my concerns serious consideration.

“You have questioned the Angels?” Lash asked after I fell into a lengthy silence.

“Not yet...” I admitted.

“You are afraid to ask. Afraid to know the truth,” Lash commented sympathetically, paraphrasing several comments I had already made to that effect when retelling events.

“I am...But not just for myself,” I amended. “These Angels, if they are searching for me, the trail will lead them here. To our family, our people...If I go looking for them, it will make it that much easier for them to look for me, and through me, everyone else.”

“You need to know,” Lash observed with quiet confidence. “Not knowing, it will drag you down until every breath is a struggle.”

“I know...” I agreed and let out a long sigh as I mentally shifted gears. “I’m not sure Ophelia would know anything...but Orphiel...I have been thinking back on how he acted back when we first encountered him in the Labyrinths. Even if he doesn’t know anything about ‘this’, he knows something...Almost certainly, at the very least, how I can find someone who has the answers I want.”

“What of Ril?” Lash asked, taking me by surprise. “As a Forever, she should know?”

“A Perpetual...” In all of the focus I had given to the Angels, I had forgotten about Ril entirely. “It's possible.”

Distracted by the possibilities, I lost track of time. When I realised how late it had become I reluctantly left our bed and began getting dressed.

Lash did the same but surprised me by opting for a more elaborate outfit.

“You’re coming with me.” It took me a moment to realise it, but felt incredibly obvious in hindsight.

“I am going with you,” Lash confirmed supportively.

I had grown increasingly accustomed to ‘holding court’ with important people, so I didn't get as nervous about it as I used to. However, it still felt nice knowing that Lash cared and would be at my side of her own accord, rather than because I Summoned a projection of her.

Teleporting to the throne room, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had given the Faction leaders a deadline, but it was intended to light a fire under their collective asses. With so many competing interests, I wouldn’t be surprised if a vocal majority called for more time. However, upon arriving in the throne room, I found several servants and subordinates of the Faction Leaders eagerly anticipating my return.

Allowing them time to discreetly leave and spread the word of my arrival, I delayed opening the doors to the throne room for several minutes.

When the doors opened, the Faction Leaders, including Sebet, Wraithe and Yor, began filing into the throne room.

I motioned for silence.

Francis Asrus, Regent and current Faction Leader of the Kingdom of Asrus Faction stepped forward and bowed respectfully. “My Tyrant, Tyrantess, at your command we, your loyal servants and subjects, have deliberated for many hours-”

Here it comes.

“-And have arrived at an amicable resolution.” Francis Asrus beamed with pride as he waved expansively to his peers. “In the best interests of all, we have come together under a single banner.”

Banners bearing Sanctuary’s mark rose from the crowd.

“For prosperity. For security. For Sanctuary!” Francis Asrus withdrew a thick roll of parchment from beneath the folds of his cloak, raised the parchment in his fist for dramatic effect and was met with cheers.

I felt Sebet’s thoughts briefly touch upon my own. <You’re welcome.>

When the cheers died down, Francis Asrus respectfully approached me and offered the parchment. “This document bears the formal terms of our coalition and the signatures of all Faction Leaders called upon for this most worthy and historic undertaking.”

Accepting the parchment, I passed it along to Lash so I wouldn’t accidentally damage it. “Then you have my blessing to prosecute this campaign in accordance with my laws. Be bold. Be brave. Secure new lands so your descendants will have room to grow and live without fear of scarcity! Be vigilant so they will never know predation! This is our home! This! Is! Sanctuary!”

Cheers erupted from the crowd, with none so loud as the monsters liberated from Slavery.

“Go now!” I commanded, “Convene your councils of war and secure our future!”

After everyone had left, I settled back into my throne and took several deep breaths to calm myself. “Was that a bit much?” I asked, feeling awkward.

Lash looked back at me with a confused look in her eyes.

“The speech. You don’t think it was overly dramatic or anything?” I specified.

“This is important,” Lash replied, still appearing uncertain as to what I was talking about. “If this is not for drama, what should be?” She struggled a little with finding the right words, but I could see what she meant.

“You’re right,” I agreed. “Thanks,” I leaned down and kissed her.

While drawing back into my throne, I noticed that Lash had begun reading the document.

“This is?” Lash pointed to a paragraph near the middle of the document.

Before I leaned down again to take a closer look, Lash rose from her throne and hopped up onto my lap.

“Each Faction will be afforded a minimum allotment of land suitable to their needs?” I read aloud seeking confirmation.

Lash shook her head and pointed to the paragraph again and in the same place as before.

“Additional lands will be awarded in accordance with their contributions and participation?” I asked.

Lash nodded.

I skimmed through the document again and pointed to a section closer to the bottom. “Basically, providing food and other supplies, warriors, magic items, potions, and Overseers all has a predetermined value. So long as each Faction meets the minimum commitment they agreed to, they get a fixed number of territories. If they exceed that commitment, they can earn more.”

“This is fair,” Lash stated approvingly.

“Mostly,” I agreed. “This agreement actually favours the smaller Factions though. From a logistical perspective, at least. The larger Factions have surrendered a small portion of their prospective gains to guarantee the smaller Factions will receive territories for meeting easier contribution levels.” The paragraphs detailing Faction tiers and qualified the conditions of who belonged to what tier, was somewhat complicated, but that was the gist of it.

“Why?” Lash asked curiously.

“Goodwill, most likely,” I replied with a shrug. “Even the Human Factions won’t be able to use all the land they stand to gain. So giving up a few territories out of potentially hundreds means little compared to securing Synergies for securing the territories in the first place. There might come a time in the future when the smaller Factions could help them with other things as well, so getting on good terms now, when it's easy, is prudent.”

Lash nodded and continued reading.

Securing Overseers would need to be a high priority, as every Overseer committed to the campaign would increase the rate at which new territories could be taken.

In the past, I had wondered if Overseers could be used to recruit new Overseers by Conquering fresh Labyrinths. I just didn’t have the opportunity to test it before events drew my focus elsewhere.

To that end, I Summoned a projection of Skreia, a Harpy and Overseer. Coincidentally, she was also a Faction leader and had stood within the hall only moments earlier.

Skreia bowed her head in respect. “My Tyrant and Tyrantess!” The long dark feathers by her ears twitched nervously. “How may I serve?”

“It depends,” I replied. “As both an Overseer and a Faction Leader, I am going to give you a choice.”

Skreia bobbed nervously from one talon to the other.

“As the leader of your people, it would be reckless to send you out onto a battlefield,” I explained, trying to make my reasoning as clear and simple as possible. “With your permission, I would like to strip your title of Overseer, and replace it with another title.”

Skreia gave me an odd look with her piercing dark eyes. “That is all?” She asked hesitantly.

“That is all,” I replied.

“I abide by the Tyrant’s will,” Skreia answered with visible relief. “If I must give up one title for another, then so be it.”

I had gotten the answer I wanted, so I tried not to overthink it.

Dismissing Skreia’s projection, I replaced her Overseer title with Lord.

Considering potential candidates for the test, it didn’t take me long to narrow the list down to three people.

Summoning projections of the Ainsleys, I explained my intentions and allowed them to make the final decision for themselves. After a rather lengthy discussion, It was decided that Faine would be the one to temporarily take the Overseer title.

Dismissing the Ainsleys projections, I gave Faine the temporary promotion and then returned home with Lash.

While Lash stored the parchment somewhere Suzy wouldn’t find it, I decided to bite the bullet and press Orphiel for some answers.

Teleporting to an isolated territory using my authority, I took a few minutes to get myself into the right state of mind and then pulled Orphiel to my position.

“-that’s so...huh?” Oprphiel looked around in confusion.

“I have questions, and I want honest answers,” I rumbled, not above employing a certain degree of intimidation to set the tone for our conversation.

“Ah, okay?” Orphiel replied with visible discomfort.

“Where do the other Angels live and how many of them are there?” I demanded.

Orphiel’s discomfort bled away and was replaced by confusion and a small degree of belligerence. “I can’t answer that,” he replied bluntly and then hastily raised his hands in surrender. “No really, I literally cannot speak of it.”

“Or you’ll die?” I guessed cynically.

“What? No. I just can’t talk about it...” Orphiel answered with a snort. “It’s protected information, so mindreading won’t work either.”

“Protected how?” I pressed.

“I can’t talk about it,” Orphiel replied with an exaggerated shrug and wave of his arms.

“What do you know about authority?” I asked, already knowing what the answer would likely be.

“Can’t talk about...” Orphiel answered, although his eyes had narrowed slightly.

“What about, a secret facility buried under the Dominion?” I conjured Eliza Eckart’s I.D. from my Storage Ring and pressed it close to Orphiel’s face. “A place filled with machinery and technology that is far too advanced for this world.”

Orphiel had only looked at the I.D. with minor curiosity, but the mention of advanced technology caused his eyes to flare wide in a show of surprise. “I...” He frowned and furrowed his brow. “I don’t know about such a place...” He replied with exaggerated and deliberate care. “Such a place would probably be very-I can’t talk about it...Damn it!” Orphiel swore. He took a deep breath. “Ieeeeee-can’t talk about that...” Orphiel scowled and looked just about ready to rip his hair out. “It’s not fair! It’s every Cherubims' dream to make a pilgrimage! I may be Fallen, but it wasn’t my fault!”

“Pilgrimage?!” I demanded, recalling the memory of the two Angels that had arrived just as I was leaving.

“To bear witness to-to...” Orphiel scrunched up his face and considered his next words very carefully. “Lay eyes upon his glorious wor-I can’t talk about that!”

As Orphiel descended into a string of expletives, I began having serious doubts about whether he would be able to give any meaningful answers at all. Which was frustrating, because he clearly had the answers I wanted. Or some of them, at least. But if he had to skirt around the actual answer to such an extent, then it defied the point of asking in the first place.

I took several deep calming breaths and prepared to ask another question.

It was going to be a long evening.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 84 - Origins in Trauma - Part One

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 84 - Origins in Trauma - Part One

Gradually becoming aware of my surroundings, I found myself standing in front of a hospital check-in desk. After several minutes of staring blankly at the opposite wall, I realised there was no one manning the desk.

Numbly turning my head to the side, I expected to find an adjoining waiting room bustling with chairs and patients. Instead, I found myself at the intersection of three sterile corridors and a strangely familiar elevator.

As the rust slowly shook free from my mind, I reasoned that I was standing at a nurse or security station. It was strange to find it unmanned, but understaffing was a common issue in the medical sector.

A flashing light on the desk caught my attention and invited another possibility.

The staff might be responding to an emergency.

Opening my mouth to speak, I struggled to think of what to say. Eventually settling on calling out for assistance, I felt a rush of confusion and embarrassment when I uttered a dry grunt instead. Roughly clearing my throat, I tried again but did little better.

Anxiously looking down each of the corridors in turn, I found an opaque glass plaque on the wall that listed several departments located deeper in the building.

Sluggishly reading the list of departments, I settled on Administration and slowly began shuffling down the corridor.

After following the directions provided at key intersections, I eventually found myself standing in front of a metal door. A large sign on the wall confirmed that beyond was the administration department.

While looking for a door handle, my eyes were drawn to what looked like a biometric scanner beside the door.

Unsure what to do, I slowly retraced my steps and followed the directions designated as Security.

Wandering the corridors, it occurred to me that the recessed lighting fixtures in the ceiling were not active and I had been exploring without a light source from the beginning.

Growing increasingly worried that I had been left...wandered into...

I paused mid-stride and tried to remember how exactly I had arrived at the hospital.

Unable to account for what I felt was a substantial amount of lost time, I had to fight hard not to succumb to the fear building in the back of my mind.

It was then that I noticed. except for a leather wrist brace buckled to my right wrist and forearm, I was stark naked. Making matters worse, someone had tattooed my arms and chest as well.

Mortified by my discovery, I tried covering myself as best as I could manage.

A faint scream from further down the corridor drew my attention away from my nakedness and toward the source of the noise.

Except, there was no one there.

My head throbbed painfully, causing me to stagger and almost collapse from the pain.

“Tame Monster!” A young woman shouted, this time from the opposite end of the corridor.

Lurching awkwardly in place, I clumsily pressed my back against the wall to keep my balance and looked for the source of the voice.

Just like before, there was no one there.

The pain inside my head continued to build and I could feel the pressure building behind my eyes.

“I...can’t believe it actually worked...” The voice whispered, somehow originating behind me despite the wall being at my back.

Growing increasingly nauseous, I shakily rose to my feet and continued down the corridor.

“Hey!” The young woman’s voice snapped at my back, “Where do you think you are going, Ogre?!”

Hissing between my teeth, I tried to ignore the auditory hallucination. Convinced it was the result of stress or perhaps a concussion.

Time passed in a blur and I found myself leaning hard against the wall of a T intersection, staring at a blackened metal door down the end of the corridor. The sign on the wall read, Security, in large bold letters. The biometric lock beside the door was broken and some of its pieces lay scattered on the floor.

Unsure what to do, I continued shuffling down an adjacent corridor.

“It’s as smart as a human, remember. It understands everything we say, everything we have been talking about...” A different voice insisted. A voice belonging to another young woman.

Am I so desperate for female companionship that my brain would leverage a concussion to combat my loneliness?

“You must be confused and have all manner of questions for us,” the voice prompted with disarmingly convincing sincerity.

“Not real...” I croaked, determined to cling to my sanity as long as possible. If I had a concussion, indulging hallucinations would probably see me killed before help could arrive or I could make it to a fire escape.

While I wandered the corridors looking for signs to indicate an alternative exit to the elevator, the voices persisted in their one-sided conversations.

“It’s not as bad as all that,” The second young woman’s voice said reassuringly, “It is difficult for most people when they first start out. But it is also something everyone just gets used to over time.”

“How am I supposed to get used to THIS?!” I snapped, shouting at the empty corridor to vent the frustrations that were amplifying the pain in my head.

“You’re looking much better already,” the voice commented cheerfully.

“We’re here to help!” The first voice added excitedly.

“Do you have any questions for me? I will answer if I can,” the second voice offered kindly.

I tried to ignore them.

“Hrm, you are probably a bit overwhelmed and can’t decide what to ask right?” The second voice observed with a sympathetic tone. “That’s alright. I will try and explain some things that at least I think you will need to know if we are going to work together, alright?”

I snorted derisively and shook my head, nearly collapsing to the floor as the pain in my head briefly flared to new debilitating heights.

“This is real, Tim...” The second voice insisted. “You definitely have brain damage, but that doesn’t make any of this any less real.” The tone of her voice had changed. Taking on a weight and weariness that was almost unrecognisable from the artificial congeniality used only a handful of seconds earlier.

It was beyond unnerving.

“It’s because you are close to remembering,” the second voice explained impatiently. “Unfortunately, you’re also unbelievably close to forgetting just about everything else...Everyone else...” The way the voice emphasised the last was borderline accusatory. “I know you can hear me!” The voice growled angrily, “And I know you want to just close your eyes and wait for everything to get better on its own. But it won’t. Deep down, I know you know that.”

It was fucked up to admit it, but I knew the voice was right. Since Mum had died, I was all I had. Even before she had passed, there was only so much she could do...

“And now there are people who depend on you!” The second voice insisted earnestly. “You promised them a life better than the one you left behind!”

“Left behind?” Without thinking my hands drifted to my chest and abdomen.

I remembered standing at the top of the stairs...The two men who had broken into the house...

“I died...” I croaked dryly without conscious intention, surprising myself. “I’m dead?” I resisted the urge to shake my head despite my confusion, afraid of triggering more pain.

“You died,” the second voice agreed somewhat sympathetically. “But it was a new beginning, not the end.”

“Why can’t I remember?” I asked with mounting reluctance.

“Because you’re a fucking coward!” A new voice replied with intense scorn and a tinge of disappointment. “You’re meant to be better than this! You don’t run away from danger! YOU ARE THE DANGER! So get off your ass, stop crying, and fix this!”

“I don’t know how!” I snapped irritably, wincing in pain as the throbbing in my head intensified.

“Yes, you do,” the third voice replied belligerently.

“No, I don’t!” I snarled.

“Yes, you do,” the third voice insisted argumentatively.

“I don’t!” I hissed, blinded by the mounting pain.

“Yes, you do,” the third voice sneered with amusement.

“NO I FUCKING DON’T, CLARICE!!!” I roared, slamming my fist into the wall at my side, shattering the concrete and sending chips flying down the corridor.

“Told you...” Clarice’s voice snickered, fading almost as quickly as my mind and memories violently reasserted itself.

Falling to my knees, I vomited a mouthful of blood onto the floor. I tried not to look at the small pinkish-grey chunks standing out against the slowly expanding pool.

The pain in my head receded and was replaced by a gnawing hunger in my gut.

Pushing myself to my feet, I looked toward the blackened door.

Extending my senses, I was driven back to my knees as I was blinded by the extreme volume of foreign mana that surrounded me.

It was in the walls, the doors, the floor, the ceiling, the very air I was breathing...It was everywhere...It was...Everything...

Heaving a new pool of bile onto the floor, I retracted my senses and tried to make what I had felt fit into what I already knew.

I couldn’t do it.

No matter how hard I tried, it didn’t fit.

This place was utterly alien to me.

At first, I didn’t realise why. After all, it was all so familiar.

Too familiar.

The corridors, the signs and the doors could have belonged to almost any corporate office building on Earth.

Except...I wasn’t on Earth...

Forcing myself back to my feet again, I made my way back to the blackened door and studied the sign on the wall. Just to be sure.

Security

I had been in too much pain and suffering from trauma-induced amnesia, so I hadn’t appreciated it before. But now that I was ‘myself’ again, I could appreciate just how strange it was for a sign to be written in English.

All of them were.

Investigating the broken panel by the door, I discovered it was not part of a biometric lock at all. It bore the same general appearance, but there were no wires or electronics of any kind. It lacked the means to interact with the door on any level I was aware of.

The door which I now realised I could open if I wanted to.

Standing so close, I could feel my authority resonating with the blackened doors.

Confused, I willed the doors to open.

There was a sharp sound of metal grating on metal as the doors shuddered into hidden recesses in the wall.

An armoured body fell across the threshold, sending the helmet and head within tumbling over the floor before coming to rest against my foot.

Distracted by the dozens of similarly armoured bodies strewn about the large chamber beyond, I struggled to process what I was looking at.

The room itself had rows of what looked like lockers built into the walls. Several had open or broken doors, revealing contents covered in a thick coat of dust.

The broken remains of what may have once been a security checkpoint lay just beyond the door on the left-hand side. It had been blown apart by some kind of explosive. Cursory observation suggested the explosion was likely responsible for the bodies piled against the far wall and damage to the lockers as well. However, there were bodies in the middle of the room, as well as the one that had been pressed against the door.

Whatever had happened here, it hadn’t taken place all at once.

The bodies, which I now assumed to belong to the security forces of the facility, had died at different times and appeared to be human. They were tall and the armour added a certain degree of bulk, putting them in the general range of seven and a half to eight feet tall.

I wasn't sure if it bore any meaningful significance, but it seemed important to make those distinctions.

Taking a knee, I picked up the helmet so I could take a closer look at it.

More or less resembling a heavy motorcycle helmet and made of some kind of metal, the helmet had a bizarre face guard. Also made from metal, the face guard had some form of silver plating and was contoured to take on the chiselled features of a Greek god. Complete with an accompanying beard. The eyes were replaced with some form of hardened glass, but the opposite side was covered in dust and desiccated organic matter.

The remains of the man who had worn the armour in life.

The remainder of the armour had a similar look to dirt biking armour, but it had a far more intimidating aesthetic and bulk to it.

The armour of the body now draped across the threshold bore several craters roughly a half-inch to an inch in diameter. Evidence that the owner had probably died as a result of violence shortly afterwards.

Cautiously investigating the room from the doorway, I discovered several dozen articles of dust-covered rubble were actually some kind of weapon. Given the shapes, I assumed they were some form of firearm, but didn’t recognise any of them.

I had never been into guns, so that didn’t surprise me all that much.

Now that I was looking more closely, I recognised similar craters marking the armoured bodies not scorched and blackened by the explosion.

Armed with a greater appreciation for what had transpired, I removed the body from the doorway and set the accompanying head down beside his body.

On a whim, I thumbed away the dust on the chest piece until I uncovered a name engraved into the metal.

Kaine

Reading the name, I felt a profound sense of loss but had no idea why.

Covering my mouth with one hand in an attempt to avoid breathing in the dust, and firmly clamping down the muscles that controlled the plates protecting my gills, I cautiously entered the chamber.

As I had feared, each footstep kicked up massive clouds of dust, making it difficult to breathe.

No longer convinced that investigating the chamber and rooms beyond was necessary, I turned to leave but stopped in my tracks. With my vision impaired by my secondary eyelids, I had nearly missed it.

My equipment and clothing lay in an unceremonious pile behind a broken wall in the blasted checkpoint.

Attempting to make the hole wider with my Earth Affinity, I was surprised to find that it didn’t work. Trying again with the Shape Stone Spell, I met with a similar failure.

Frustrated, I did my best to ignore the dust and tried to tear the compromised wall down with brute force. Against my expectations, chunks of wall tore free with no more resistance than plasterboard.

Stumbling into the room beyond, I snatched up my tunic, pressed it against my mouth and took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

The increasingly dense levels of dust in the air were making me feel decidedly claustrophobic.

Draping the necklace with the Storage Ring around my neck, I swiftly stored my equipment inside and used its power to clothe myself. Fully clothed, I retreated to the corridor.

Considering my options, I made another brief foray into the room to seize the weapons lying on the floor. They were too small for me to use, but I wanted to take a closer look at them later and didn’t want anything to do with the dust storm that had overtaken the room.

Sealing the door behind me with my authority, I began to leave but stopped after taking just a few steps.

I looked back at the body I had left against the wall.

Leaving the body behind felt...wrong. Like it was some form of betrayal.

Returning to the body, I tried to think of reasons for what might be causing these feelings, but beyond my recent bout of brain damage, I came up empty.

Crippled by indecision, I eventually settled on storing the body and armour inside the Storage Ring.

Retracing my steps, I began making my way back to what I assumed was the entrance and exit to wherever the hell I happened to be.

While walking along the silent corridors, I had time to consider why the scale of the passageways and chambers I had encountered all seemed well suited to my size. Even the doors were large enough that I could pass through them without stooping.

Passing by the plaque listing the different departments, one of the listings, in particular, stopped me in my tracks.

Laboratory

In my formerly compromised state, I had been acting under several questionable assumptions. After what I had seen, and now with a more or less clear head, the word held entirely different connotations.

Driven by morbid curiosity, I was about to begin following the signs but stopped myself at the last moment.

Travelling the empty building was becoming an increasingly unnerving experience. Mostly because I was doing so alone.

Gathering my MP I attempted to Summon Gric but was met with the same failure as the Shape Stone Spell.

Settling for a weapon instead, I withdrew a short mace from my Storage Ring, took it in a firm grip, and then continued down the corridor.

Following the directions toward the lab, I passed several chambers recessed into the walls on either side of the corridor. Unlike the desk at the entrance, these alcoves had more of the lockers I had first found within the security wing.

Opening the lockers with my authority, I found more of the firearms that had littered the ground in the other chamber. Only these were clean enough that I could get a proper look at them. Not that it gave me a better idea of what to expect.

Storing the guns away for later, I continued following the signs and eventually came across a massive reinforced door. Easily twice the size of the others, the door looked quite imposing in the darkness.

Attempting to use my authority to open the door, I was shocked when my authority experienced resistance for the first time. Opening the door wide enough to slip through took the better part of a minute. With concerns the door might begin to close once I crossed the threshold and no guarantee that I would be able to open it from the other side, I decided to wait until it was opened the entire way.

While the door was retracting into the wall, I found that the chamber beyond was empty and that there was a second seemingly identical door on the opposite wall.

Assuming the chamber was meant to be some sort of quarantine or sterilisation checkpoint, I was confused by the absence of protective equipment, washing stations, and other paraphernalia my studies had led me to expect in such facilities.

Crossing the threshold, I couldn’t help but flinch as the door began closing behind me. Just as I feared it would. However, my fears were alleviated upon discovering I could halt and even reverse its progress by leveraging my authority. Although it would begin closing again so long as I remained within the chamber.

Armed with peace of mind, I approached the opposite door.

I quickly discovered that the second door wouldn’t begin opening until the first was completely closed. Reinforcing my assumption that the chamber was meant to fulfil an additional security or quarantine role.

As the second door slowly slid open, I couldn’t help but stare in awe at the massive chamber that lay beyond.

Rows upon rows of huge glass cylinders dominated the chamber, standing like silent columns in the darkness. Contrary to the other sections of the building, large machines were packed against the walls and cables of all sizes trailed in a seemingly haphazard pattern across the floor.

There was also a faint glow deeper within. The source was hidden behind a barrier of fallen machinery, but the near complete darkness of the chamber at large made it impossible to ignore by comparison.

Cautiously crossing the threshold, I released a stressed sigh when the door began automatically closing behind me, just as the first had done.

Investigating one of the closest glass tubes, I found I was unable to make out the contents due to a special tinting pigment in the glass. I had originally expected the exterior to be coated by a thin layer of dust, so the discovery raised several questions I wasn’t sure I would be able to find the answers to.

Shifting my focus to the machines connected to the glass cylinders, I became frustrated upon discovering the buttons, dials and levers had almost no descriptive inputs I could use to guess at their potential functions. Beyond a large switch bearing the same symbols as the rear power switch on my old computer, everything else was a crap chute.

Making matters worse, the position of the switch indicated the power to the machine should have been active. So there was no way to illuminate the contents of the glass tube.

I tried using the Fire Lance Spell to serve as an alternative means of illumination, but the Spell failed just like the others had done.

Following a trail of cables to a machine set against the wall, I was surprised to find what looked like computer screens were built into a section further along the wall. Similar to the wall of security screens I had once seen in the University back on Earth, I wondered if they were intended as some form of remote viewing station for the other sections of the lab.

Continuing deeper into the chamber, I found more of the computer screens in matching formats to the first and wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Closing in on the collapsed machinery, I quickly shifted interest after hearing traces of a feminine voice coming from the other side. Circling the debris, I located the source of the dim light and the voice I had heard a few moments before.

What looked like a touch-screen tablet with a black case lay face down on the floor a handful of inches from a withered corpse slumped against the base of the wall. The corpse wore a long white lab coat over a soiled blouse, dark skirt and long socks. The security I.D. clipped to the coat was covered with dust, but it was thin enough that I could see the name and face beneath.

Her name had been Eliza Eckart. With only the photo as a reference, I assumed she had been in her mid-thirties or perhaps early forties when she died. She had dark hair pulled back into a tight bun and had a hardness in her eyes and face that made it difficult to consider her as anything else besides a religiously professional individual.

Carefully removing the I.D. from the coat, I wiped the dust away and looked at the photo again.

I knew her. I was certain of it.

I knew her face, I knew her voice...The same voice coming from the tablet on the floor.

As I carefully lifted the tablet off the floor, I uncovered the inbuilt speaker and heard Eliza Eckart's ghost speaking out from beyond the grave.

“-can only hope that you can forgive us for what we have done and that our sacrifice in some small way makes up for the horrors we have committed...I...I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry...” There was stifled sobbing and then a long silence. The screen flickered with a fractal image and I could barely make out what looked like a pip tracking across a bar at the bottom of the screen. There was an awkward throat-clearing sound and a resigned sigh. “My name is Eliza Eckard, and if you are listening to this, I...” She hesitated and made a strange strangling sound before clearing her throat again. “It means I’m dead...” She stated flatly. “And it means you have returned...”

There was a lengthy pause that gnawed at my nerves.

“If you came seeking vengeance, I can only hope that our deaths offer you some measure of comfort...What we did...There is no excuse...I have come to terms with this...” Eliza took a deep shuddering breath to steady herself. “No doubt, you have questions, but they will need to wait. You are in incredible danger! Entering the facility will have alerted Elis to your presence, you need to leave before he finds you!-”

I felt a sudden sense of unease.

“-The data-slate will have the answers you seek, but you need to run! Hide somewhere Elis can’t find you!” Eliza insisted with mounting desperation, her voice beginning to crack under a weight of intense emotions. “It’s not the life you deserve, but there is nothing else I can do...I can only hope that you can forgive us for what we have done and that our sacrifice in some small way makes up for the horrors we have committed...I...I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry...”

As the message began to repeat, I took the tablet, or data-slate, as Eliza had called it, into my Storage Ring. unsure how I should feel about someone who had so fervently professed to have done me wrong, I almost left Eliza’s corpse behind. However, I felt the same sense of conflicting emotions I had experienced when leaving Kaine’s remains earlier.

After sweeping her body into the Storage Ring, alongside a pile of the fallen machinery to clear a more immediate path to the exit, I began hurriedly striding across the room and directly toward the exit.

I was roughly halfway across the room when the recessed lights in the ceiling suddenly flashed to life, momentarily blinding me as my eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness.

As my vision returned, I found I had become somewhat turned about while disoriented and was now facing one of the tubes. Staring at a glass-eyed and distorted reflection against a background of pale green liquid.

Only, it wasn’t my reflection...

Some part of my subconscious pieced together what was happening before the horror had a chance to take hold, driving me away from the contents of the tube and back toward the exit.

Unable to stop myself from retching as I stumbled toward the door, I felt the bile spill over my lips and splash against my chest but paid it no mind.

I could feel hundreds of cold dead eyes watching me and desperately needed to be somewhere, anywhere, else.

Hundreds, there were hundreds of those glass tubes...

Panic and stress began eating at my mind, eroding my self-control. Making it all the more difficult to leverage my authority against the door. Briefly losing control, I tried, and failed, to remove the door by putting it inside my Storage Ring before forcing myself through the gap and breaking a rib in the process.

Unlike before, the door closing firmly behind me now served as a source of profound relief. Which lasted all of a dozen seconds before an unexpected male voice nearly made me jump out of my skin.

It took several seconds before I calmed down long enough to realise the voice had been some sort of recording related to the room and its security.

“Authority level accepted,” the voice announced impartially.

I tried not to flinch and concentrated on opening the door.

The pain from my broken rib, and the ravenous hunger that pain generated, lent me enough restraint and distraction to wait until the door was a third of the way open before slipping through and breaking into a stiff jog.

It was strange, but the corridors had seemed far less foreboding and ominous in the dark. Now that everything was brightly lit, I kept expecting to find enemies waiting for me around every corner. When those enemies failed to materialise, it only served to feed into my mounting paranoia, raising my expectations that the next corner would be the one that would be used for an ambush.

I felt a perverse sense of disappointment when I managed to make it back to the elevator without incident. As if not being attacked or chased through the winding corridors was somehow a bad thing...

Slapping my right hand against the doors to the elevator, I felt a surge of profound relief as a notification appeared in front of my eyes announcing my imminent departure.

As the teleportation took hold and my body began to disappear, I witnessed the arrival of two statuesque figures in radiant gold and silver-plated armour. They had arrived facing away from the elevator and didn’t appear to have noticed my presence. But the vantage point gave me an unrestricted view of the eight wings of golden light tightly furled at their backs and laurel-like demi-corona of the same golden light hovering at brow level about their helmets.

Teleported away, I reappeared in a dimly lit stone chamber.

Overwhelmed by all I had seen and experienced already, I reflexively raised a wall of stone to protect myself when I detected movement from the periphery on my right side.

“Tyr-OOF!” Something hit the wall hard enough to send cracks webbing outward from the impact.

“Tyrant!” A chorus of brutish voices cried from the darkness, sending waves of relief crashing into my mind and sweeping away my fear. Ogres began pressing in from the darkness, their magical armour hanging in broken tatters, while others were borderline naked.

“Tyrant are back!” One of the Sarges announced with big salty tears running down his cheeks. “Ugg tell you! Tyrant no leave!”

Several Ogres in Ugg’s vicinity nodded emphatically in agreement, struggling to hold back tears of their own.

Cheers rose from deeper in the chamber and as lanterns sprung to life, they revealed the battered ranks of the Asrusian and Semenovian Knights and scouts.

At a glance, I could tell that roughly a quarter of their number was missing.

The cheering mass of the Viking Cultivators looked smaller than I remembered as well. Although they were too numerous to get an accurate count while they were milling about.

I was abruptly reminded of my broken rib when Gric staggered out of the shadows, seized me about the chest and began squeezing as if his life depended upon it. “I...failed...you...My...fault...” Gric rambled feverishly, his skin radiating a persistent heat that gave me serious cause for concern.

Setting aside my pain, I conjured a barrel of fresh drinking water and dumped it over my front, splashing the water over Gric as a matter of course.

Faint trials of steam rose from Gric’s skin and I felt a subtle change begin shifting through his body. Slowly releasing his grip, Gric stiffly and awkwardly took several steps backward. His inherently rapid healing had been treading water paired with the Synergy from the other Ogres, but now that I had returned, it was kicked into high gear.

I could see Gric’s strength returning with each passing second, and the unmistakable shame and embarrassment that accompanied it.

“I wanted to do something similar,” Sebet announced with a smirk, approaching from my left-hand side. “But after he disembowelled Mud, I thought better of it.”

“How was...The beetlemen attacked his mind as well?” I asked, struggling to match my hazy memories of events against Gric’s sorry state.

Sebet snorted with nervous amusement. “They did, but he gave worse than he got,” she admitted dryly. “Left their mind hunters as easy pickings for the Cultivators and Ogres. But that sort of aggressive approach has its price.”

I nodded, gaining a new appreciation for Gric's mental fortitude.

“We need to leave,” the words passed my lips without me really thinking about it. A shadow of my former urgency forced its way through the waves of relief coming from the Ogres and demanding that it be heard. “Something, someone...An enemy is coming, and we need to not be here when that happens.”

They had held themselves back until that moment, but my declaration brought my Bodyguards and champions leaping into action. Driving our forces into a hasty retreat through dark tunnels and more of the massive carved stone chambers.

Surrounded by my Bodyguards and a swarm of Ogres, I didn’t fully realise what I was doing until I reached the surface and noticed the host of notifications that had piled up in my lower peripheral vision.

In the span of a couple of dozen minutes, I had killed tens of thousands of people and seized control of more than several times as many Slaves.

Reminded of the deal I had made with the Midnight Caravan, I directed my champions to move ahead of our forces and open the city’s walls so we could enter without facing stiff resistance.

Our return to the surface and move on the city brought the surviving members of the Midnight Caravan rushing to join us. They appeared to have lost more than half their numbers, but from the way they were excitedly conversing with one another and cheering, anyone could have been excused for thinking they were mentally deranged.

Entering the outskirts of the city, I had to ignore the screams and cries of fear of the general populace and continue repeating the same standing order over and over again, directing the Slaves toward the Viking Cultivators gathered outside of the city.

I had given the responsibility of protecting the Slaves to Baldr and his Cultivators because I didn’t trust them to exercise restraint when faced with the escalating chaos of the capital. Their status as former Slavers and raiders was hardly ideal, but I was trying to do my best with the tools I had at hand.

Despite a mounting desire to flee, I decided that honouring my word and liberating the Slaves within the city was a higher priority. Sweeping the city would take hours, but the trip back to Sanctuary would take days anyway. So it made sense to do as much good as I was able, while I still had the opportunity to do so.

Leaving the city in the late evening, at the head of a literal horde of former Slaves. I began entertaining the possibility that my precautions against the beetlemen were also thwarting the movements of this great enemy. Assuming they had the same authority I did, then they would be restricted to the same means of travel.

That rationale began to wear thin as night fell and shadows took hold. By morning, I had changed my mind and decided to leave the Asrusians and Semenovians behind to fulfil my obligations to the Midnight Caravan and the Slaves we had liberated.

Now convinced that my presence would only put them all in greater danger, I left them with all but one of the Arks. Just in case. I then set out at all speed for the border.

Even with the Kobolds Synergy, the protracted forced march was an utterly miserable affair.

Haunted by what I had seen, the twilight hours were the worst. Already hovering on the brink of mental exhaustion, my mind was playing tricks with the light. Gold-winged angels would appear with each flash of light, while grotesquely distorted reflections of my own face stared back at me from the shadows with milky white eyes.

In such an agitated state, and my guard raised, Sebet and Gric couldn’t read my mind. Which meant our conversations had to be held aloud and in person. Their retelling of events and my strange behaviour before my abrupt disappearance only served to feed into my mounting paranoia.

Making matters worse, the sudden appearance of the two Angels continued replaying in my mind. With each repetition, I became increasingly convinced that one of the Angels had reacted to my presence.

The ever-so-slight movement of the Angel’s helmet could be explained by a seemingly endless number of reasons. But with the potential dangers in play, I had to assume the worst.

***** Amenitael ~ Elysium ~ The Throne of Domination *****

Kneeling before the Council of Purity, Amenitael ignored his injuries and kept his gaze firmly locked upon the pristine gold and silver veined marble floor.

In other circumstances, his dishevelled appearance would have been cause for reprimand and light censure. However, the will of Elisariel, High Speaker of the Creator, overruled all. Even the Council of Purity.

“You claim the sacred hall of The Creator was destroyed?” Zarthael hissed with barely restrained fervour.

“I do,” Amenitael replied calmly. He had the bruises and lacerations to prove it, but that didn’t amount to much before the likes of Zarthael and his ilk.

“Heresy!” Zarthael barked, slamming his delicate silver-white fist against the arm of his throne, sending arcs of divinity radiating from the blow.

Illuvital raised one hand for calm. “This was the cause for Amarithael’s demise?” She asked, her seven sapphire eyes attempting to bore into Amenitael’s soul and lay bare the truth.

“It was,” Amenitael replied with genuine remorse. He had not wished for his brother’s death, but it had been an unavoidable sacrifice. Amarithael’s loyalty to the High Speaker of the Creator had been unshakable and he had begun to notice things, begun to suspect...

Illuvital lowered her hand and nodded, seemingly content to accept his answer.

“Yet you survived,” Raziphael commented shrewdly, tenting his fingers before his lips in a show of deep contemplation. “Why is it that Amarithael was struck down and yet you have survived?”

“Amarithael...My brother...He shielded my body with his own...” Amenitael croaked with genuine sorrow. “Were it not for Amarithael’s sacrifice, I would not have survived...Such as I am, I owe my continued existence to his sacrifice.”

Raziphael narrowed his singular cyclopean ruby eye in an overt demonstration of doubt and scrutiny. No doubt hoping Amenitael would break under the pressure.

“Enough,” the High Speaker of the Creator’s melodic voice commanded from his throne on high. “A devoted servant has endured much loss and hardship to deliver us this news. Casting baseless dispersions against his character is unwarranted, and ill-advised...”

The Archangels of the Council of Purity immediately purged all pretences of hostility and bowed their heads in reverence and deference. “It is as you say,” they recited in unison, “We shall endeavour to do better and live up to the divine purpose bestowed by The Creator.”

“As is only right,” the High Speaker of the Creator agreed condescendingly. Not that the council showed any signs of having noticed his tone as anything other than rapturous exaltation.

Once the veil was pierced, there was no returning to blissful ignorance.

“Amenitael, Seeker of the Radiant Dawn, do not think your service will go unrewarded,” the High Speaker of the Creator declared in a fatherly tone. “You shall be granted the honour to lead the pursuit of the heretic responsible for this desecration. Alas, there is a righteous need for immediate action. Indeed, the trail has almost certainly grown cold in your absence. So I ask that you bind your wounds with your brother’s memory, so it may serve as a reminder of your divine duty in this most sacred of Quests.”

“As The Creator wills,” Amenitael declares solemnly and with the utmost sincerity.

Although they spoke the same words, they carried a very different meaning to Amenitael. As one of the few who saw the High Speaker for the charlatan he was, Amenitael would make any sacrifice to see the deceiver's plans thwarted and for the deceiver's enemies to prosper. Amenitael was willing to hope that the alleged heretic and subject of the deceiver's obsession may hold the key to the deceiver's destruction. However, finding the heretic would also see them that much closer to the deceiver's grasp. And this, he could not allow.

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 83 - Against the Unknown - Part Two

Ogre Tyrant: Chapter 83 - Against the Unknown - Part Two

The obelisks scattered throughout the Dominion’s territory made all forms of known teleportation impossible. Which meant our incursion across the border had to be made on foot.

A silver lining lay in the fact that the Quest System would continue to function regardless. Eliminating the need to carry extensive supplies and draw slow-moving wagons.

The majority of the Human forces had been provided mounts by their respective Factions or already possessed their own. Riding atop large carnivorous Beasts, they would outpace the Ogres in a contest of speed but not endurance. The Beast riders and their leaders would need to find a balance while on the march because we planned on taking as few rest stops as possible.

A token contingent from the scaled Kobolds Fireheart Faction was set to provide a high-Rank Synergy to delay the onset of Fatigue and Exhaustion. Assuming the stockpile of provisions within Sanctuary held out, only short breaks would be required to restore small amounts of missing HP before pushing onward again.

With my champions serving as both vanguard and remote viewing point for our departure site, I was made aware of an otherwise unexpected development.

Without warning, Agents of the Midnight Caravan had established a camp a short distance from our own.

Initially caught unawares, my champions had quite understandably assumed the strangers were a potential threat. After all, we were trespassing on foreign soil. Inclined to undertake a preemptive strike to secure prisoners for interrogation, my champions had cancelled the attack at the last moment after detecting several of my subjects amongst the ranks of the strangers.

During a tense confrontation, the strangers had named themselves as agents of the Midnight Caravan. The organisation was committed to liberating Slaves of all humanoid Species, by any means, up to and including murdering the Slaves' masters if necessary.

During my previous interactions with their representatives, I had been given the impression that they had a few hundred members at most. From what I was seeing by remotely viewing my champions, it was now clear that those assumptions and impressions had been actively encouraged to conceal their true numbers.

Conservative estimates made from observing their camp had already surpassed a thousand and more were arriving with each passing minute.

Unlike the Asrusian and Semenovian soldiers, the agents of the Midnight Caravan were, for the most part, lightly armed and armoured. The overwhelming majority bore scars that marked them as former Slaves. Which wasn’t particularly surprising, given their current allegiance. Recruiting from the Slaves they liberated was guaranteed to be an easier proposition than recruiting from a population that was generally, at best, indifferent toward Slavery.

Beasts amongst the ranks of the Midnight Caravan were few and far between. Which didn’t bode well for them. While they possessed no shortage of hand-drawn carts, there was little chance of their army keeping pace with ours over the long march ahead. Limiting themselves to the handcarts also reduced the amount of supplies they could carry.

Assuming that they intended to care for any Slaves they liberated, their margins for a return trip would be quite small. This was strange, considering their entire reason for entering the Dominion’s territory in such numbers was presumably to liberate as many Slaves as possible.

“Majesty, a representative of the Midnight Caravan, wishes an audience,” Randle announced to the command tent at large to draw my attention away from his cousin, Faine, whom I was remotely viewing at that moment.

Shifting focus to Randle, I watched in silence as he marched out of our relatively small camp and toward a trio of men and women gathered outside of the sprawling camp belonging to the Midnight Caravan.

“My Majesty is with me,” Randle announced imperiously. “What you say will reach His Majesty’s ears as if speaking with him directly.” He then removed a small leatherbound stone slate from a pouch on his belt and waited for their response.

A dark caramel-skinned man in his late fifties with elaborate facial tattoos stepped forward and fixed his gaze above Randle’s right shoulder. “I am Imram, speaker of the Midnight Railroad. We have learned of your intention to invade the Dominion and wish to negotiate terms for a formal alliance in the field.”

Randle scowled but remained silent, diligently watching the stone slate for my response.

<We have a standing alliance already. What do they want?>

“His Majesty wants to know the specifics of your request,” Randle paraphrased with an air of overt suspicion. Applying pressure by reminding them they were not invited and their presence was suspect.

Imram’s lips tightened for the briefest moment and his eyes narrowed before regaining his composure. “I am certain your master-”

“His Majesty!” Randle interjected curtly.

“His Majesty...” Imram amended with visible distaste. “Has been made aware of the desolate expanse that lies in the way of your intended destination-”

“What do you know of our intentions?!” Randle demanded, interrupting the Midnight Caravan’s representative for a second time and with greater hostility.

The other members of Midnight Caravan retreated a handful of steps and reached for their weapons.

Imram calmly motioned for them to hold fast, his gaze shifting to the hulking Lizardman Trask who was coming up behind Randle. “Only that the-His, Majesty, intends an incursion into the borders of the Dominion,” he answered evasively. “Such an incursion will provoke a long-established response in the form of armed contingents of Slaves. Slaves, which we intend to liberate.”

“You intend to trail behind our forces then,” Randle accused with disdain. “Is that the cause for your request?”

Imram pursed his lips and took several moments to regain his composure. “We wish for mutual cooperation,” he replied with stiff formality. “The desolate expanse within the Dominion’s borders is treacherous. Reliable sources of fresh drinking water are few and far between. They are also well fortified and guarded...”

“That is not a problem for us,” Randle stated dismissively.

“We are aware...” Imram replied, his voice straining slightly. “Your master, His Majesty, has established mutually beneficial arrangements with our organisation in the past. We desire to establish another arrangement.”

“What do you have to offer?” Randle asked sceptically. Mirroring my own thoughts. After all, there was precious little that I couldn’t acquire on my own and in far greater quantities.

Smirking confidently, Imram slowly withdrew a sheathed dagger from a satchel at his side. “The Midnight Caravan has several Artefacts that may take His Majesty’s interest,” he offered Randle the dagger.

Randle accepted the dagger and through our link, I was able to identify it.

Named Needle, wounds delivered by the dagger have a chance to apply the Stunned Condition. Its second ability could be activated by expending MP, allowing the weapon to ignore a target’s Toughness similar to the spear, Shiverfang.

It was obvious that they had done their research or otherwise had someone who was capable of making astute observations. After all, the value was relative, and to me, denying a potential enemy access to that weapon was worth several fortunes.

Accepting so many strangers into the expeditionary force would invite a certain degree of risk. However, unless I committed to running them off, many of those same risks would exist solely from their relative proximity anyway.

<Establish terms. Do not relinquish the dagger under any circumstances.>

Randle took a moment to read my directions and nod in the affirmative before returning his attention to the Midnight Caravan’s representative. “His Majesty is willing to negotiate. State your terms and we will determine fair compensation.”

The gathered representatives relaxed, quietly confiding their relief in one another for securing peaceful negotiations.

“Protection and provisions for any Slaves that are encountered,” Imram demanded firmly.

<Protection condition, elaborate.>

“Protection is vague,” Randle qualified. “What are your expectations?”

Imram smiled shrewdly. “That is what we must negotiate,” he admitted somewhat begrudgingly. “If His Majesty is amenable, we would have this condition defined as liberating, shielding, and escorting all encountered Slaves back to a place of safety.”

Randle baulked at the sheer audacity of the demand.

“Of course, we are not averse to any or even all of the liberated Slaves being taken into the fortified Labyrinth under His Majesty’s control,” Imram added somewhat hastily. Shrewdly positioning the care of the liberated Slaves onto my shoulders while framing it as a concession. Mistaking a key element in my established motivations for taking in Slaves in the past.

Biting back a response of his own, Randle looked to the stone slate for directions on how to proceed.

<Too much. Too Greedy. All Artefacts or no deal.>

Randle’s frustrations evaporated and he grinned maliciously for a few moments before assuming a cool demeanour. “You are asking His Majesty to accept a considerable degree of risk and responsibility. So it is only natural that His Majesty is appropriately compensated...”

Imram’s confidence wavered and was slowly eroded by doubt. “One Artefact is not sufficient?” He asked uncertainly.

Randle assumed a haughty stance and incredulous expression. “As I am certain you are aware, a single Dominion army could have as many as a million Slaves. Any city would have ten or twenty times that number. So what price would you place on the lives of so many people?” He asked, shifting the moral imperative back to Imram and the Midnight Caravan members. If they were to lowball an offer of compensation, it would now appear as if they didn’t value the Slaves' freedom or lives. A concept that was antithetical to the ideals that bound them.

Recognising what Randle had done, Imram’s right eye twitched from the stress. “Our organisation has paid for liberty before,” he cautioned. “While we firmly believe that the lives of such people are priceless, we are not so detached from reality that we cannot comprehend basic economic principles...” Imram levelled an honest and somewhat intimidating stare against Randle. “How much does His Majesty want?”

“Everything,” Randle replied smugly.

Instead of growing frustrated or crying out in outrage, Imram nodded slowly in understanding. “Am I to assume that this would extend a line of credit?”

Randle looked at the stone slate.

<That is agreeable.>

“His Majesty agrees to these terms,” Randle announced magnanimously.

If the Midnight Caravan had only required provisions for themselves, it would not have been difficult to accommodate the request.

The problem arose with the prospect of feeding, watering, sheltering and protecting potentially millions of people. That was many times beyond Sanctuary’s ability to support for any real amount of time.

Which meant the resources would need to come from the other Factions. Factions who were entitled to the goods produced through their sweat and labour.

While I ‘could’ take what I wanted, it would defy the point of awarding them such autonomy in the first place. It was far better to approach them with a mutually beneficial offer.

Once the threat posed by the beetlemen was dealt with, or at least reduced to a reasonable degree, the Factions would be allowed to resume their efforts in seizing labyrinth territories. A practice that would be accelerated with access to additional Artefacts. Artefacts I would be willing to loan on the same existing principles we had already established.

Fulfilling the roles of both middleman and participant, I would ensure everyone came out ahead. In exchange for the Artefacts, the Midnight Caravan would have my assistance in liberating, feeding, watering, and safeguarding the Slaves. The Factions would provide the necessary supplies, and receive access to the Artefacts, allowing them to expand their borders. Which would increase the size of my Realm and provide powerful weapons that could be used in the event of a true crisis.

A crisis that was not all that different to what I was dealing with right at this particular moment.

With the deal settled, the gathered leadership of the Midnight Caravan were invited into the expeditionary forces by a myriad of groups so they could benefit from the Synergies.

Within the hour, Randle accepted four more Artefacts. A sword, a crossbow, a breastplate, and a vambrace.

Silverite was somewhat underwhelming as far as Artefacts were concerned. Seemingly forged from pure silver, the blade of the one-handed sword shone with an impossibly immaculate finish. Blows dealt by the sword would apply detrimental Conditions against the undead, but that was it. Silverite was otherwise little different from any other magical sword.

Ghost was more interesting. The crossbow, mechanism, body, string and all, was completely silent. Spending one point of MP would render a loaded bolt invisible for ten seconds. Allowing the owner to ambush enemies with ease, so long as they had a decent hiding place to strike from.

Sineater was...disturbing. The wearer of the breastplate would take on negative Conditions generated by allies so long as they were within ten feet of one another. By spending MP, the wearer would temporarily become immune to the effects of negative Conditions and gain a damage bonus equal to the number and overall severity of the negative Conditions they possessed. In theory, you would want to place the armour on a loyal Bodyguard to gain the greatest benefits. However, the Artefact didn’t restrict the source of the Conditions to just one ally, making it incredibly dangerous.

The vambrace...well...I couldn’t read the description without wondering if someone who knew of Earth had made them. Named Submission, the vambrace would negate the momentum of any object that made direct contact with it. Spending MP would actively draw projectiles off target and toward the vambrace.

Taking Submission for my personal protection was a no-brainer.

With the issues regarding the Midnight Caravan resolved, and the Faction Leaders arranging and debating matters in the Faction Council, I spent the final hours of preparation time with my family.

I didn’t know what to expect once I entered Dominion territory but there was a mounting sense of unease growing in the back of my mind. A mounting certainty that I was going to do something that would erode or compromise what was left of my original self.

What was left was what made me human...and I didn’t want to find out who I was without it.

But I couldn’t just ignore the threat either.

Spending this time with my family made me more certain than ever that there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t sacrifice if it meant I could keep them safe. Even if it meant giving up that final part of me...

If a monster was what they needed, then I would become that monster.

After kissing Lash and my children goodbye, I relocated to our remote staging ground site.

Technically, any one of my champions who had visited the staging area near the Dominion’s border could calibrate and activate the Dimensional Breach. However, given the gravity of the situation, there was a certain degree of expectation that I would be the one to signal what was technically an invasion of a hostile power.

For practical reasons, my forces were sent through first. If the Dominion or locals were to initiate an ambush, the Ogres were far better suited to weather those attacks than anyone else. Not only would they survive, but they would quite possibly reverse the situation outright.

The Cultivators went next but made a point of maintaining their own respective groups. While each group trusted, or at least, respected me. They knew very little of one another, so it was somewhat understandable.

As a compromise, acknowledging the political jockeying between the Asrusians and Semenovians, I had them send their forces through at the same time. Each Faction was allowed roughly one-third of the Breach’s width to transport their forces.

The Kobolds from the Fireheart Faction were last, but not without good cause. Working in cooperation with the Dwergi, the Kobolds had crafted what I could only describe as a primitive wooden tank. Although they insisted it be called the dragon turtle.

Besides being powered by tamed Carnifexes, I knew very little about how it worked. All I knew for certain was that the bunker-like shell housed at least one ballista and that the Dwergi had sworn up and down that it was the pinnacle of their engineering art.

Once the wooden tank was through the Breach, I closed it and banished the magical mechanism to an isolated territory.

Left on my own, except for Mud, I waited a couple of minutes before remotely viewing Gric and Sebet’s progress on the other side. Confident that things were well enough in hand, I opened a smaller Breach and joined them.

Accommodating the Midnight Caravan meant assigning one of our Empowered Anchors for their protection. We still weren’t sure how far the Spell’s effect would carry, so there was a possibility it would prove to our overall benefit by slightly improving the overall coverage.

Baldr’s Cultivators took the front of the formation. He and his warriors were far more individualistic fighters and didn’t hold ranks while marching. Instead, they banded together in small groups and conversed with one another as they struck out across the barren scrublands. The groups would drift apart and reform with different members every so often, but never seemed to grow larger than six or seven men and women per group.

The Asrusians and Semenovians were strikingly similar in almost every respect. The Knights of each Faction maintained strict regimented lines while their mounted Rangers roved about on the periphery. Small detachments of Rangers would be sent out at fixed intervals to scout the horizon in whichever direction their commanders were feeling most paranoid about at that given moment.

Kang and the Oba clan’s elders were perfectly content to travel alongside me, my Bodyguards, Gric, Sebet and Mud in the centre of the formation amidst the Ogres.

Marching in time with the beating of the drum, the Ogres effortlessly kept pace with one another while singing ‘The wheels on the cart go round and round’, ‘Food tastes nice’ and ‘Twinkle twinkle little sword’. Which sounded far more ominous and menacing than they otherwise had a right to be. Although, I supposed anybody who wasn’t familiar with the original nursery rhymes probably wouldn’t be as inclined to share my opinion.

As the hours passed by without incident, it became increasingly difficult to maintain the original levels of wariness and constructive paranoia.

Faced with potentially a week or more of the same before reaching the Dominion’s capital city, I decided to constructively pass the time by creating a mobile Chi Gathering Formation. Formed using stone pillars, the act of keeping those pillars in correct alignment and constantly on the move required a considerable degree of concentration and focus. However, I couldn't just blank out on my surroundings either, which made for a taxing but rewarding mental workout.

Hours passed into days and tensions began to rise from the Midnight Caravan’s camp. We had passed several towns and made no attempts at making contact with any of them. While I could understand their frustrations and the reasons they might think I was reneging on our deal, I had spoken with their representatives several times already and made my position abundantly clear.

The beetlemen were my primary target. Diverting focus was out of the question. Once they were dealt with, then I would begin liberating Slaves.

If we were going to make ourselves responsible for protecting thousands of Slaves, I would prefer it was undertaken while on the return trip.

As the fringes of the Dominion capitol came into view, I was still struggling to understand why we had been left alone.

Then I saw the army of beetlemen amassed outside of the city walls and the lone towering figure standing before them.

Easily five times my own size, the beetleman’s chitinous shell was adorned with gold and jewels that would have bankrupted entire nations back on Earth.

They had been waiting for us. Waiting for me.

With a complete disregard for its own safety, the giant beetleman began purposefully consuming the distance between us. Although unarmed, that could change in an instant. “Finally-k-k-k. After an eternity of waiting-k-k-k. I will see my duty fulfilled-k-k-k.” The beetleman’s mandibles clacked and clattered like the grinding of tectonic plates and its footfalls made the ground tremble with every step. “Now-k-k-k. You WILL come with me-k-k-k.”

The arid scrubland to the left, right and rear of our position collapsed, stranding us atop a plateau as thousands more beetlemen surged out of the ground and surrounded us.

“Follow-k-k-k.” The giant beetleman gestured toward a trench branching outward from the collapse and toward the city. “Follow-k-k-k, and none shall be harmed-k-k-k. Resist-k-k-k, and they will all die-k-k-k.”

I felt hundreds of minds begin pressing on the boundaries of my own.

They had made their position absolutely clear.

I could go with them willingly, or they would take me by force.

“No!” Gric snarled, “I will not allow it! Not again!” He seized my arm and anchored his claws into my flesh. “We can fight them! You can escape!”

“I don’t think we can...” Sebet muttered darkly. “They were hiding before...but there are hundreds of them now...”

“Not for long!” Gric hissed, closing his eyes and growing deathly still.

I felt one of the minds encroaching upon my own, die. Then, everything went dark.

***** Sebet ~ Dominion Capital *****

Sebet had only a moment's warning to recognise what her rival Gric intended, but it was so monumentally stupid she refused to believe he would do it.

Then, the Tyrant had collapsed.

In exchange for taking a single life, the enemy retaliated against the Tyrant directly.

Eyes wide with doubt and fear, still clinging to the Tyrant’s arm like a lost child, Gric watched looked on with horror as the Tyrant fell.

Sebet felt what was coming and barely managed to shield her mind in time.

Gric arched his back and screamed, extending his psychic presence in all directions with reckless abandon.

Dozens of their enemies fell into vicious seizures and convulsions while others fell to their knees and tore at their heads with their claws. However, the warriors were not Gric’s targets. They just happened to be in the way.

Gric was now locked in a desperate battle against the hundreds of minds who had assaulted the Tyrant, and to Sebet’s shock, he was winning.

The Tyrant was not dead and the enemy refused to surrender their hold on his mind. A feat that was proving far more difficult than Sebet would have expected after they overwhelmed him so completely just moments prior.

Savage howls of rage rose from the ranks of the Ogres and they began pelting the enemy with stones, javelins and anything else they could lay their hands upon.

“FOR WODIN!!!” Baldr bellowed, raising a thundering spear to the sky as he leapt the gorge and led his warriors in a charge against the giant Coleoptera warrior.

“FOR HIS MAJESTY!!! FOR SANCTUARY!!!” The three Ainsleys roared, sending out a surge of mana as they formed bridges across the encircling trench.

“FOR ASRUS!!!” A senior Asrusian Knight cheered and charged across the nearest bridge, triggering a wave of fur and steel as his fellows proclaimed the same and followed.

“FOR SEMENOVIA!!!” Prince Vidam howled, leading his Knights into a packed charge on the opposite side.

Without saying a word, the Tyrant’s Bodyguards and remaining champions formed a defensive ring around him.

When the Coleoptera began leaping across the expanse, the Ainsleys erected stone palisades to slow them down while more physically gifted champions, like Trask and Brok, moved to engage the enemy directly alongside Kang and the Oba elders. Leaving the Naga Itzal to support them with venomous ranged attacks from the rear.

“Potions!” Lurr commanded, pulling free the Tyrant’s helm and doing his best to raise the Tyrant’s head and shoulders.

In short order, twenty healing potions were emptied into the Tyrant's previously empty helm.

“Wait!” Sebet ordered, “Using them now would be a waste!”

Lurr scowled darkly at Sebet from beneath his helm. “Why?!” He demanded.

Bound by Oaths that predated those she had made to the Tyrant, Sebet had to tread a very fine line. “The enemy is still battling within his mind!” She pointed to Gric, whose body was frozen at the peak of his scream of rage. “Gric is driving them out, be patient!”

It was not a lie, but it also wasn’t anything close to the truth either.

The Tyrant should be dead, but he wasn’t, and after witnessing the attack firsthand, Sebet now knew that it was his authority that was keeping him alive. Through his authority, Tim had made himself functionally immortal.

The problem lay in the fact that the enemy appeared to be aware of this fact, and had known about it for quite some time. Which complicated matters since the enemy didn’t need to worry about the Tyrant being accidentally killed.

There was also the subject of their motivations for seeking him out in the first place.

So far as Sebet was aware, the Dominion’s search for Ogre Variants had preceded the Tyrant’s arrival by centuries. So unless the Tyrant was some form of defective perpetual, Sebet wasn’t sure how the Coleoptera would have known to look for him in the first place. Let alone what they could want him for.

“WITNESS ME!!!” The exultant howl of triumph broke Sebet from her musings and snapped her focus toward Baldr and his horde of Cultivators.

Storm clouds had gathered above their battle, and Sebet could see the Valkyrja triplets lazily drifting amongst the clouds, watching the battle unfold below them. One Cultivator in particular had garnered their undivided attention.

Covered in wounds, his chain hauberk hanging useless over his waist, the Cultivator was beset on all sides. Despite the loss of his armour, each new wound taken was shallower than the last. Howling with psychotic laughter, the Cultivator cleaved through Coleoptera limbs and weapons as if they were nothing more than mud.

He crippled or killed thirty-one Coleoptera warriors before taking a blow to the back of the head and falling lifeless to the dirt.

The Valkyrja released a keening wail and the storm clouds rumbled ominously. A bolt of lightning arched from the three sisters and struck the corpse of the fallen Cultivator. When the light faded, the corpse of the Cultivator was gone.

“FLOKI IS CHOSEN!!!” Baldr roared with fanatical zeal and threw himself back into the fight against the giant Coleoptera.

“HE IS CHOSEN!!!” The other warriors roared in a savage chorus.

There was another flash of lightning, this time arching to the faltering ranks of the Asrusian knights.

An ash-white twin of the fallen Cultivator leapt out from the lightning and into the unprepared flank of the Coleoptera. “AHAHAHA!!! ETERNAL BATTLE AWAITS!!!” The Einheri howled with glee, disembowelling a Coleoptera twice his size with a vicious backhanded blow from the axe in his left hand and amputating one of its arms with the sword in his right.

Faster and stronger than he had been in life the Einheri cut a swathe of devastation through the Coleoptera’s left flank and showed no signs of slowing.

The Tyrant’s right hand twitched.

“The Tyrant! He moved!” One of the Bodyguards shouted, pointing to the Tyrant’s right hand.

“WITNESS ME!!!” Another Cultivator roared.

The Tyrant’s face twitched.

“WITNE-” A third Cultivator was cut short and a pair of lightning strikes arced through the sky in rapid succession.

Nearly blinded by the Valkyrjas’ display of Divinity, Sebet almost missed it.

The Tyrant had awakened.

The Tyrant rose to his feet with an eerie and deathly silence. Bereft of his helmet, Sebet could see the inky blackness of his eyes and knew something was terribly wrong.

“Fall...” With a wave of the Tyrant’s hand, dozens of the closest Coleoptera warriors collapsed to the ground and disintegrated into clouds of dust.

With the Tyrant’s revival and the death of the Coleoptera, the Ogres were whipped into a rabid frenzy. Breaking ranks, they surged across the bridges, past the embattled Asrusians and Semenovians and smashed into the Coleopteras lines.

Sebet watched with morbid fascination as an Ogre tackled a Coleoptera warrior three times his size to the ground and began eating it alive. Biting down and swallowing anything and everything that entered its mouth, shearing through magical steel as if it were nothing.

Confused, the Coleoptera were slow to react and took heavy losses from the vicious counterattack.

Strangely, the small Ogre, Mud, had not joined the others, instead standing vigilantly at the Tyrant’s side.

As Sebet continued to observe, the reason became clear.

Lifting the smaller Ogre as if he weighed no more than one of his Children, the Tyrant looked toward the giant Coleoptera warrior. Mana flooded from the Tyrant's hand and into the smaller Ogre’s body, causing Mud’s skin to crack and burst from the strain.

Stunned by the Tyrant’s callous disregard, Sebet watched as the small Ogre was launched through the air and toward the giant Coleoptera warrior.

To his credit, Mud managed to raise his machete midflight. However, despite being preoccupied with defending against Baldr’s vicious assault, the giant Coleoptera managed to materialise and raise a massive shield at the last moment, blocking Mud’s attack.

Or so it seemed.

Expecting the little Ogre to detonate in a hail of bone, blood and gore, Sebet was stunned into stupified inaction by what happened instead.

Opening his mouth wide, Mud unleashed a torrent of superheated plasma against the shield, boring a hole through the magical metal and into the Coleoptera’s bejewelled carapace.

Caught off guard, the giant Coleoptera lurched to one side, doing its best to evade.

After hitting the ground, Mud renewed his assault on the giant Coleoptera, incinerating half of a chitinous arm before the Coleoptera managed to retreat into the ever-thinning ranks of its remaining warriors.

Now beset on all sides, Mud released short bursts of plasma into the ranks of the Coleoptera, turning any who approached into mounds of ash.

Distracted by the destruction Mud had unleashed, Sebet hadn’t noticed the Tyrant was on the move.

Walking at a leisurely pace, seemingly without a care in the world, the Tyrant had begun making his way toward the trench leading to the city.

Worried that one of the Coleoptera had managed to gain control over his mind, Sebet was disturbed to find that it wasn’t the case at all. The Coleoptera had all but retreated from the Tyrant’s mind, and those that remained were engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Gric.

There was something else pulling the Tyrant’s strings. Something deeply embedded within the Tyrant’s own mind. An irresistible instinct calling and demanding that he answer.

Recognising the potential threat for what it was, Sebet gathered her will and attempted to suppress it but found that she couldn’t. Her contract explicitly forbade her from tampering with the Tyrant’s mind, and whatever this was, it enjoyed those same protections.

Frustrated, Sebet tried reaching out to Gric but found he was too far gone to be reasoned with.

Briefly entertaining the idea of somehow restraining the Tyrant, Sebet had to dismiss the idea because anything they could attempt, the Tyrant could do better or reverse outright. There was also no telling what would happen to anyone that provoked him.

The only consolation was that the Coleoptera were now in full rout, streaming down the trench and back toward the city. Putting the majority of the Tyrant’s army right behind them, and providing a buffer between the enemy and the Tyrant.

Demonstrating no fear whatsoever, Baldr and his Cultivators didn’t hesitate for a moment when the trench descended into a tunnel leading beneath the city walls. Charging ever forward in their bloodlust and desire for a warrior's death.

The Ogres were right behind them with Mud leading the charge.

For their part, the Asrusians and Semenovians were more reserved, leary of what could easily prove to be a trap. Or at the least, wary of an environment that would afford the enemy any number of opportunities for ambush. All the same, they diligently brought up the rear, refusing to remain behind.

The Kobold contraption was damaged beyond repair, but the scaly little things showed no reservations in hitching a ride with the mounted Humans and urging them forward.

With the Tyrant moving at such a sedate pace, the fighting disappeared around distant corners and a maze of branching passages. Were it not for her ability to remotely view the battle from the minds of their allies, Sebet would have had grave concerns regarding a potential counterattack. However, that was the thing. The enemy WAS trying to launch counterattacks, they just aren't working.

The Cultivators didn’t care about taking losses and the Ogres soaked whatever damage the ambushers could deliver, then they hacked the Coleopteras down and continued forward. In the Ogres' case, ripping free hunks of flesh or entire limbs to feed upon and regain their HP.

With each successive failure, the Coleopteras' numbers grew thinner and their warriors grew smaller. What had seemed like an invincible tide of chitin-armoured bodies, was being torn apart by raw unadulterated savagery.

The fighting rapidly intensified as the Coleopteras initiated what Sebet assumed had to be their last stand.

The fighting was still strong when Sebet followed the Tyrant out of the tunnels and into a massive carved stone chamber.

Mangled, and mutilated, but still desperately holding its ground, the giant Coleoptera was leading a desperate defence of a large passageway located on the opposite side of the chamber. Outnumbered and losing warriors with every passing second, their defeat was all but guaranteed. However, the Coleopteras had descended to the same primitive savagery as the Ogres, launching themselves at their enemies and trading their lives to deliver horrific injuries on the Cultivators.

Contrary to Sebet’s expectations, the Tyrant did not continue his leisurely chase of the Coleoptera. Instead, he changed direction, heading for a passage built into the wall to the left of where they had entered.

Gric, who was being carried by Lurr, began to stir. Lethargic and weak, he tried to speak but the effort seemed to be beyond him.

Uncertain how many of the Coleoptera mind hunters remained, Sebet cautiously opened her mind and established contact with Gric.

As drained as he appeared on the outside, it was nothing compared to the state of his mind. Beyond exhaustion, Gric’s Psyche was balanced on a razor’s edge and felt unbelievably fragile. <All...except...one...> His thoughts frayed and came apart as quickly as they were formed, making it difficult for Sebet to understand. <One...left...> With an effort that appeared to cost him most of his remaining energy, Gric passed along the message again. This time, more insistently.

Sebet felt Gric’s intentions and recognised that she now had a decision to make. She could stay beside the Tyrant and follow him to wherever it was he was going. Or, she could hunt down the last of the mind hunters and finish what Gric had started.

After a few moments of consideration, Sebet made her choice.

Unfurling her wings, Sebet raced across the open floor of the chamber with incredible speed. Even without extending her senses, Sebet knew that the Coleoptera warriors were guarding the approach to the final mind hunter. The last female of their Species within the Dominion’s borders.

Sebet had seen bits and pieces of the other females strewn about the tunnels, but not enough to have belonged to the hundreds she had felt at the onset of the battle. However, Sebet knew better than to question Gric’s skill at seeking out rival telepaths. Once he had their scent, it was all over.

Selecting a javelin as a quest reward, Sebet cast the Thundering Strikes Spell upon it and hurled it at the giant Coleoptera.

Bereft of weapons, and already on its last legs, the giant Coleoptera attempted to lurch out of the way but wasn’t fast enough. The javelin bore deep into an exposed wound on its left side and then exploded, ripping free chunks of flesh and chitin and causing the giant Coleoptera to lose its footing.

The moment the Coleoptera struck the ground, it was set upon from all sides and viciously hacked to pieces.

Numbering less than a hundred in all, the remaining Coleoptera warriors were overwhelmed in a matter of seconds. Torn limb from limb and devoured in an orgy of bloody violence.

With the Coleoptera warriors dead, the fervour of Baldr and his Cultivators began to ebb.

The same could not be said for the Ogres. Like hounds that had caught the scent of fresh game, they continued charging down the passageway with single-minded determination.

Following behind the Ogres, Sebet withdrew into herself, raising her mental defences as high as they could go. She was a natural manipulator, but she lacked Gric’s raw power, and if he couldn’t defeat the final mind hunter, then Sebet knew better than to risk a direct confrontation on the mind hunter’s terms.

After only a couple of minutes, the curving passageway opened into another large chamber. At its centre, a massive Coleoptera female, nearly the same size as the giant Coleoptera warrior, lay in wait in the centre of the chamber.

In stark contrast to the males, female Coleoptera were thinner, lighter, and had segmented claws as sharp as swords.

Wing’s beating so loudly it made Sebet dizzy, the female Coleoptera slowly ascended toward the ceiling.

<In the name of The Creator! Leave!> The mind hunter’s thoughts tore through Sebet’s mind with almost effortless ease.

Stunned into immobility, Sebet was surprised to find that the Ogres, while moving much slower than before, were still on the move. Settling to serve as a distraction, she did her best to push back against the mind hunter and occupy its attention. <Why?!> Sebet demanded. <You attacked us first!>

<We served the will of The Creator!> The mind hunter retorted incredulously. <Your lives are of no consequence before The Creator’s majesty and divine edicts!!>

Sebet staggered under the mental assault but forced herself to remain standing. For all of the mind hunter’s power, it appeared acutely accustomed to pain, surrendering its advantage and retreating each time the Tyrant’s protection was brought to bear.

The Ogres were gathering beneath the female Coleoptera now but had no way of reaching her.

<Call off your mongrels!> The mind hunter demanded impatiently, betraying a hint of fear.

The ogres began clambouring atop one another, forming a living pyramid of flesh.

Taking a chance, Sebet struck back. It amounted to little more than spitting into a raging bonfire, but it was enough to loosen the mind hunter’s grip and provide Sebet with an opportunity.

Or not.

Sebet shrieked in pain as the mind hunter struck deep into her mind and began excavating everything within reach.

A bright flash of light illuminated the chamber and brought an immediate end to the pain.

Crumpled on the ground, Sebet gasped for breath and watched in stunned silence as the female Coleoptera crashed into the far wall, leaving a trail of acrid smoke in its wake.

One of its six wings had been reduced to a smouldering stump and the female Coleoptera was struggling to reestablish a semblance of balance.

Acting as one, the Ogres began surging after her. Those who had formed the higher levels of the living pyramid tumbled to the ground.

Pushing herself to her feet, Sebet tried to gather her MP but was knocked down to her knees as the mind hunter renewed its assault. However, before the mind hunter could regain a proper foothold, a ball of liquid fire erupted from the horde of Ogres, narrowly missing one of the female Coleoptera’s five remaining wings and forcing her to focus on the more immediate threat.